(A/N: Okay since so many people decided to follow this story - even though I only got one review - I decided to continue the story. I hope everyone likes it, sorry if it seems a bit rushed - I really felt bad about taking so long)
All characters are property of J.K. Rowling, I own nothing
It is the strong smell of antiseptic, the simple muggle medicine with such a potent stench that wakes the sleeping girl, the lone patient in the hospital wing. Her big brown eyes fluttering open to see Madame Pomfrey capping the familiar brown bottle, the same one her mother kept in the bathroom cabinet for the random cuts and scrapes. The healer gave her a reassuring smile, experienced enough to know that patients were often spooked waking up in unfamiliar surroundings.
"You're wounds are already healing. You'll be here another day or two tops." She didn't leave her spot at the side of Hermione's bed, scribbling something on the clipboard. Madame Pomfrey had the same undistinguishable handwriting as her parents and all muggle doctor's she'd seen growing up, she'd come to the conclusion long ago that all medical professional had atrocious handwriting. "You are very brave Ms. Granger, to be healing so quickly after an attack like yours is remarkable." The nurse put a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder, which was no longer sore to the touch.
Hermione didn't think she was brave. She thought she was stupid. She'd left herself so vulnerable and open for the attack, wandering around the dungeon corridors aimlessly. She'd acted irrationally and she'd paid the price, she was simply grateful that her attacker hadn't taken advantage of her in any other ways. But she nodded along with the nurse, giving her a grateful smile before lying back to rest a bit more.
It wasn't long after that when Harry, Ron, and Ginny came in with a few trays of breakfast. They'd brought tons of food and planned to eat with her before they had to go to classes. All three of them looked troubled. Harry's eyes were downcast and his hair was more unkempt that normal; Hermione knew he was blaming himself, when in all actuality this particular event was completely unrelated to his involvement with Dark wizards. Ron kept running his hand through the slightly too long locks of red hair and he looked greenish every time he even glanced at the trays of food; he hardly ate while he was there. Ginny looked like she hadn't slept at all, the bags under her eyes dark and reminiscent of hers the week before O.W.L.S.
She wanted to voice her observations on their appearance, but she probably looked worse, that thought making her even more self-conscious. She tried to run her fingers through her mess of hair but she couldn't get past a large knot near the top of her head. Frustrated she pulled her hair back, the back of her neck clammy and the small hairs there were damp with sweat.
"How are you doing Hermione?" Harry asked taking the seat by her bed.
"I'm alright; a bit sore, but on the mend. Madame Pomfrey said I had to stay here another day or two." Her three guests nodded along but she still had a request. "Could you guys take note for me and just write down my assignments? Maybe bring them to me if you have a chance so I don't fall behind?"
"Bloody hell, 'Mione, you of all people shouldn't worry about falling behind. You could teach the damn class."
"Ronald, language." She scolded him but he ignored her.
"You should be more worried about resting and getting better, missing a few assignments won't kill you."
Ron didn't seem to get just how important it was for her to get back into her normal routine, so she could put this whole incident behind her. Ginny and Harry could she where this disagreement was heading and refused to let Ron get her riled up after what she'd been through in the last thirty-six hours.
"We'll make sure to get it to you after dinner." Ginny butt in, stopping her brother from making another comment that would only lead to an argument, and putting Hermione's irrational worries at rest.
The trio had to leave, classes would be starting and Hermione insist they be on time. And as the door shut behind them it opened to reveal McGonagall and Dumbledore. They came to stand at the foot of her bed and exchanged formalities. But they quickly got to the point.
They asked her if she remembered anything, and at that moment she didn't, but she promised to think back and try to recover something. The two adults agreed, saying that time and rest would probably help her focus and recall the events that needed clearing up. They promised to return before dinner and left Hermione alone with her thoughts.
Not being one to procrastinate she immediately began trying anything to remember what had happened to her. Closing her eyes she leaned back against the pillows and forced her mind to remember.
The hallways were deserted, on a Monday night few people had energy left to be out past curfew. Hermione was nearly done checking her section when she crossed Tina Jones, a smart girl from Ravenclaw who Hermione had grown fond of. Tina looked truly awful; her hair was pulled into a messy bun, showing off all of her pale, clammy looking skin. Her eyes were dull, dark circles underneath them, and she coughed or sneezed every few steps. Hermione stopped the girl.
"Tina, goodness, you look awful." She patted the girls shoulder.
"Yeah, it's okay, just dreading this patrol." She joked, "Slytherin halls too, last thing I need is some over privileged little shit giving me trouble." Hermione like the way the girl was straightforward, calling things out exactly as she saw them.
"Tina, go to be, I'll take your patrol." Hermione offered, stopping the girl from arguing, "I'm wide awake anyway." She smiled to reassure Jones. She was far too sick to argue and relented, allowing Hermione to take her patrol.
Hermione continued walking, going down the stairs instead of up them, headed in the direction of the dungeons.
She shook her head a bit, regretting it when she felt the slight twitch of a headache forming behind her temples. Well it was easy to remember that, Jones would be able to back up that part, though she'd be another person blaming herself for Hermione's attack.
Hermione needed to remember more, to place blame on the person who really deserved it, her attacker.
The dungeons were always a bit spooky; Hermione never understood how Slytherins could be comfortable in such a dark, damp place. There was an ever present sound of dripping water, coupled with the even tap of her footsteps. It was somewhat relaxing, rhythmic and monotonous. Hermione felt no reason to be uneasy or to look behind her, but she should have been on her guard.
She didn't hear another set of footsteps, her stalker keeping a far enough distance while also matching her footsteps. In the dark no one could see the sly grin that split the figure's face. She reached the end of the area she was supposed to be patrolling, stopping she thought for a moment. She could go up the staircase in front of her, and simply go to bed, or, she could also see if she couldn't find Draco slinking around the corridors; like her he had a nasty habit of being in the library until obscene hours during the week of midterms. She turned on her heel and walked back down to dark dungeon halls, not even aware of the shadow that hid just behind a pillar as she changed direction.
The figure sneered, this would be even better; no one would find her in the depths of Slytherin domain until the next morning. With a small flick of the wrist the spell was cast and Hermione was frozen, petrified like she'd been her second year. The only difference here was that she was aware. While she couldn't move, frozen mid-step, she could look around, expressing herself through her eyes.
If she could've moved she would have snapped her neck turning to see the source of heavy footstep that came from behind her. She knew fear was written clearly across her face but try as she might she simply couldn't hide the terror that gripped her.
Hermione sat straight up, her body rushing with adrenaline at the mere memory of her attack, or at least the beginning. It all went black after that. That both frustrated Hermione and scared her. What could have happened to her that caused a blackout? She feared the answer to that but knew if she could just remember a bit more that she'd have a chance to figure this whole thing out.
She closed her eyes, fully intending to try and regain some of her lost memories. But exhaustion took over; the moment her eyes slid closed her mind shut off, but her deep sleep came at a price.
She knew she was still in the Slytherin corridors, down in the dungeons, the basement of the school. She knew she was on the floor, the cool, damp stones scratching harshly against the backs of her legs and the small span of exposed skin where her shirt rode up her back. She couldn't see far beyond herself, but she knew her attacker was still there, the footsteps ringing out clearly as they stalked around her shivering, aching body. The footsteps were echoing in through the corridor, walking circles around the helplessly paralyzed girl like a vulture finding an easy meal.
The only thing that kept Hermione from begging, groveling, for some relief was the knowledge that it would do no good, this twisted person would only get off on her vulnerability and the power they now held over her. So she was silent, as quiet a raggedy breathing and gasps She could never have imagined what the Cruciatus curse felt like when one was under it, she'd researched and read Auror accounts, but those versions didn't come anywhere near what she as feeling now.
It felt as if her heart was going to break through her ribcage, or that one beat would be too much and her heart would simply be crushed under the pressure she was feeling. It was beating far too loudly, it echoed in her ears. Her eyes flittered wildly, desperately trying to find the person who attacked her but coming up with nothing but the faint outline of the figure as it stood just deep enough in the shadows to be hidden from her view.
She glared at the figure, pain transforming to hatred in her eyes as she unknowingly intimidated her attacker. She worked the lump in her throat, calling on the last ounces of her Gryffindor courage to speak out.
"Why are you doing this?" her voice was pained and faint but the anger in her voice was clear. The shadow stepped back a bit, visibly intimidated by the girl who could somehow retain her power while broken and lying on the cold, grimy floor. There was no reply, and Hermione was slowly slipping out of consciousness. Her eyelids fought her will, drooping closed as exhaustion came over her.
Before her mind abandoned her she heard one word, it wasn't the ones she was expecting; it wasn't the green flash that haunted her nightmares surrounding Sirius Black's death. No the voice didn't speak the two words, Avada Kedavara, that would have ended her. Instead there was a green flash and a whispered stupefy. And then it was all gone, blurry at first, but blurry darkness was nearly the same as complete darkness.
Hermione woke with a start, a hand going to her chest, pressed over her heart as she felt the frantic beat reverberating through her chest. That was it, the last piece of her memory. It didn't seem likely that she'd be able to remember much more but that was okay, she really wasn't too eager to remember what being under an unforgivable curse was like, feeling the after effects was enough.
She had something now at least, something that might help find her attacker. Just before the green flash and her black out the figure stepped just too close, making himself just visible enough. It was a boy, not in the same year as her, maybe one or two years below her, but Slytherin, definitely Slytherin. His hair was longer, blond and his skin pale and his body small but slightly athletic looking. He looked eerily familiar, but many of the Slytherin students were related in some way, the majority of them fair skinned with light colored hair.
It wasn't a whole lot to go on; it really wasn't anything at all, just a general description that could describe dozens of Hogwarts student. But somehow it put Hermione just a little more at ease. She was certain if she saw the boy again she would know, but would her dodgy memory be enough. She hadn't done much research into Wizarding law but she knew that it could be just as corrupt as muggle law. Things like this often dragged victims through the mud while the guilty remained clean and often got off with a slap on the wrist. Suddenly Hermione wasn't so sure she wanted to do this.
She'd done all she could to regain her memory, but now she had a harder task in front of her. Could she risk someone like Rita Skeeter dragging her name through the mud, especially with all that was going on right now? It was an added stress she didn't need right now. Hermione closed her eyes once more, as much as she wanted justice, to get that change to throttle the boy who'd attacked her, she couldn't justify it, not right now. Maybe when this was all over, if she, Harry, and Ron were successful in taking down Voldemort and his death eaters, maybe then she'd pursue it, but by then it would be a bit pointless.
All these contradictory thoughts rushing though her skull were giving her a headache. Compromising between her choices she decided she would ask McGonagall if there was a way to keep her name out of it should her attacker be found and punished.
She laid back down, resting her aching head on her pillow, all the while unaware that a certain ginger friend of hers was headed towards her with some very confusing news.
(A/N: Okay so hopefully everyone liked it, I'm not crazy about the ending of this chapter but I wanted to give you readers something to wonder about for however long it takes me to write the next chapter. Thank you for reading and please review, I would LOVE constructive criticism, plus reviews make me more motivated to write.)