the leaves began to fall..
and no one spoke at all…
but I can't seem to recall..
when you came along..
ingenue…
~Life in Mono by Mono
iii. vertigo
Fleur and Hermione stood across from each other along the long row of tables in the Great Hall that afternoon. The Enchanted ceiling showed a clear December sky, the students surrounding the tables were looking on in glee, and Lockhart was beaming as opposed to Snape, who was looking smug for once – Hermione didn't look very certain of herself during this confrontation.
Snape had insisted that Hermione face off with Fleur since no one else was brave enough to do so. Even now, Hermione felt the nerves attack her and make her knees weak; Fleur was standing in profile just feet away from her, her wand held lazily in front of her at her thigh… She looked fearless. Her sapphire eyes were dark with resentment and a modest indifference for being paired with a girl whose practical skills most likely left too much to be desired.
Hermione's mind was racing while she too stood in profile, but her hand gripping her wand was trembling; she knew Fleur could tell. Fleur was also seemingly waiting for her to make the first move. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, thought Hermione. They were the same age, they had the same amount of practise…
A foolish pool of pride swelled in her heart while she kept eye contact with Fleur, completely oblivious to her folly.
"Incarcerous!"
Hermione tried to send ropes to attack Fleur, but the French girl's reaction nearly knocked her off her feet – Fleur elegantly swished her wand up in a vertical motion, using a non-verbal version of Diffindo, the Severing Charm, to cut the ropes before they even made it to her side of the room…
Everyone except for Snape was baffled, amazed; Fleur merely stepped forward, no longer bothering to stay in profile. All eyes stayed on her with as much dazed concentration as watching a tennis ball go back and forth across the court, on top of the students being enraptured with her presence. Hermione took a step back, thrown by Fleur's mastery of non-verbal spells; she couldn't win this battle at all…
Fleur kept advancing and Hermione let out a strained whimper; she hit Hermione with a Sponge-Knees Curse, rendering the girl incapable of movement. The fear in Hermione's eyes did not faze Fleur; she kept walking. The foolish pride Hermione felt turned into boiling anger and fear that Fleur was so experienced. Fleur would forever beat her at everything, no matter how hard she worked… But that just can't be…
"Stupefy—"
A Silencing Charm, successfully negating her weak and silly Stunning Spell, assaulted Hermione and now she knew she had lost. The students and Lockhart gasped; Fleur continued to advance. Hermione was blushing furiously, Fleur was getting closer still… The sound of her heels clicking and clicking underneath her skirt was maddening. The cheers of the students for Fleur to finish Hermione off was mind-boggling… How did she learn so much…? Why didn't Hermione think to become this advanced as well…?
It was over… It was all over. Fleur was just a few steps away from her now. Fleur was probably going to say something to Hermione; it was at this fearful moment that Hermione realised she and Fleur had never uttered a word directly to each other. The tension and fear was taut now; the cheers kept bouncing around the Hall, her knees were still sponge, her voice still could not work… Snape must have known about Fleur's superior abilities – this just wasn't fair at all! What kind of Second Year already knows how to perform non-verbal spells?
But the second Fleur was within two steps of her, she stopped. The students and Lockhart waited with bated breath for Fleur's next move. What would she do…? The fear in Hermione's eyes probably gave Fleur some sick satisfaction. Hermione felt like sobbing, but then Fleur did something she wasn't…quite expecting.
Fleur reversed her Curse and Charm. Hermione and everyone else but Snape was shocked. The Gryffindor simply stood there under Fleur's powerful, cold gaze, frozen with fear. Her heart hadn't beaten so fast since last year in her, Harry and Ron's efforts to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone. What on Earth was Fleur planning now…?
Just as Hermione was about to possibly say something, her jaw clamped shut when Fleur got down on one knee and bent her head low. Hermione watched the sunlight dance on her platinum silk locks, completely paralysed; the Veela set her wand down at Hermione's feet, then looked back up at the frightened and still somehow amazed lion before uttering her surrender to Hermione and the end of the Duel.
"I concede."
And now, Fleur was upon her knees as she worked, humming a tune to herself in between a private chat to the winds. She didn't mind the cold now that she was out here, tending to these magical beauties. Fleur was in her element here – no one knew of these flowers except for Neville Longbottom, and he had his own field behind Greenhouse Eight. But Greenhouse Four was where Fleur's resided.
She was attempting to seek out the poisonous flowers in the bunch and pick them by hand before their magic and poison could spread to the harmless plants, still musing to herself about that day in her Second Year.
"Mmm… That Duelling Club… I don't really remember why I conceded. I guess it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Snape knew I was better than her but made me go against her anyway. Well…not better. Just more experienced. I'm sure she's improved greatly by now.
"I suppose…maybe…I conceded to show her that I didn't mean for her to think that I was aiming to win. I only used the spells I did to make sure she wouldn't run away or fend me off with spells of her own. My whole point was to concede from the second Snape made her get on that table now that I think about it. I don't know why she was so mad at me…
"But I remember what you said, Papa – treat everyone with utmost respect, most especially if they don't like you. I'm not going to kill myself just because my existence is her reason for disliking me. But…maybe it'd be a nice excuse. I've been having those thoughts again lately.
"I never tell anyone about them. The last thing I need is people thinking I'm suicidal. I'm not sure…maybe I am. Maybe people would learn to revaluate their petty beliefs about people in general, not just me. That and I'm just tired of this…ache. This dull, dull ache in my chest… I miss you all. I thought maybe I'd grow out of it and move on, but no…
"What am I supposed to do after I graduate…? Where am I supposed to go? I'm never going to make a living doing anything I want to do. I don't know what I want. I just want to be normal…unnoticed… I want to work my way to the top without getting the easy way up because of the way I look. What I wouldn't give to be beautiful, but not this kind of beautiful. A gentle one…a more subdued beauty…that would be wonderful…"
Fleur nodded to herself while she felt a sigh of relief leave her; it always helped to talk about her problems, especially if no one was around to hear. She had a rather funny superstition that had to do with a fear of talking about things in the open. Paranoia that someone really would overhear her overtook her at times, but no one would be foolish enough to come out here so late.
A strange chill enshrouded her while she wrapped both of her hands along the stem of the last dangerous flower in her reach. While she bent down, careful not to breathe in the pollen, she took precaution to not put her palms and fingers over the thorns, but her concentration was thrown immediately when she heard someone…crying.
The sound startled Fleur beyond belief, and she made the mistake of inhaling sharply and gripping the stems, stabbing her palms and fingers with the thorns. Fleur widened her eyes and carefully retracted her trembling hands away; the pain was surprisingly minimal, and she was very, very wary of this... She swallowed and kept her strength while she whipped around to face the…the thing that did this to her…
"Fleur… I'm sorry, I… I didn't mean to frighten you… I j-just… um…well…"
Fleur heard a faint ringing in her ears while she used her bleeding hands to push herself to her feet. She regarded Hermione carefully, trying desperately to tell herself that she'd be fine – the flower wouldn't kill her. She felt somewhat dizzy, but it was nothing.
Shivers took over her body while she observed Hermione; leaves from trees nearby began to fall, being jostled about by the wind. Neither of them spoke at all. Fleur couldn't seem to recall Hermione ever coming along before…she was so stealthy. How admirable… Everything else but Hermione began to fade from view while Fleur almost swayed on the spot in the wind, feeling very much like a flower herself while her eyes went out of focus to get a better look at Hermione's dark, subdued ones…
Hermione…did the girl overhear everything? Fleur looked at her with a cold questioning gaze, and Hermione's hiccupping seemed to answer her question. She was blushing immensely, even in this cold. Fleur willed herself to stand strong against the wind, barely feeling her own hair blow about in the current. Perhaps she should have abided by her superstition, but at least Hermione knew that she was being idiotic with her thousand assumptions about the woman before her.
For reasons unknown, Fleur wasn't thrown at all by Hermione hearing her confessions. Not even the suicidal ones. She was beyond the point of caring about such trivial things, regardless of the subject; panicking about it would only make Hermione feel even worse.
"Fleur, I… I came… I came to talk…to you… I realise that after all these years, the only thing you've ever said to me is I concede. I…seem to have forgotten about that. So can we…can we start over…? I'm sorry for judging you and for…for talking about you behind your back and…everything. I'd like it if we could…be friends. And yes…I'm crying over what you were talking about… I'm so sorry… Friends…?"
Hermione held out a shaky hand in front of her. Or was it three…? Fleur wasn't sure. The Frenchwoman continued to stare into Hermione's eyes, unsure if she could extend her own crimson-soaked gloved hand. Hermione was saying something, but Fleur couldn't hear a thing. Her ears and nose nearly felt like they were bleeding, and the world kept tipping, seemingly determined to throw her off balance. Fleur was equally determined to not let the grass beneath her feet win…
The quarter Veela barely felt her hand move to shake Hermione's – she didn't mind being her friend. How Hermione would succeed in getting to know her, Fleur didn't know. And how Hermione's eyes seemed to keep her stable, Fleur didn't know either. But it was a double-edged sword; the softened fire in the Gryffindor's eyes kept reminding Fleur of her own weakness when she cried years ago.
Memories being forced into her mind, making her ill like vomit in her head made her cry. Now it was happening again, but the vomit was building in her throat now; a vile, acidic pain etched her throat but Fleur kept a straight face while Hermione finally took her hand. A cool sweat coated her forehead and an inexplicable force was pulling her to the side but Hermione wasn't moving at all. Impressive… Shivers were still ensnaring Fleur, nearly eating her whole with bliss while she stared into Hermione's eyes. So powerful…even now…
And the second Hermione looked down in horror upon finding that Fleur's gloved hand was soaked, all of Fleur's strength was sapped from her immediately. After years of enjoying the power in Hermione's eyes whenever they looked at each other, the rip of their gaze tipped Fleur over the edge while the ringing in her ears grew louder and louder and louder, cutting off Hermione's sobbing questions and screams. Fleur felt light-headed and liberated; she was weak enough to fall into Hermione's arms and then she slept peacefully for the first time in eleven years…
"Poppy, what did the toxicology report say?"
"Minerva, please don't be alarmed. Miss Delacour will be just fine."
"How did this happen…?"
"Poppy please tell us she'll wake soon."
"Will she be fine once she wakes?"
"Who's responsible for this!"
"Severus, please—"
"Don't please me, Dumbledore. She's my best student!"
"You're not helping matters—"
"Granger! Granger, you're the one who brought her here! Tell us what happened! NOW!"
"Severus, lower your voice or I'll have to ask you to leave. The girl is sobbing – she's in no state to answer your interrogations."
"That's quite easy for you to say, Poppy. Your student isn't lying on her possible death bed!"
"Severus! Calm yourself! This isn't like you at all. Pomona, please see him to his quarters. Minerva, Headmaster - please come in my office. Miss Granger, we'll be back in a moment. Try to calm yourself."
Hermione was sitting right by Fleur's bed, holding on to her hand with both of her trembling, bloodstained ones. She refused to let Madam Pomfrey clean her up. She refused to tell them what happened. She refused to believe that Fleur might be bed-ridden for months because of something she did to her…
Torrents of tears left her sore eyes, her throat and chest were constricted, and she'd been sobbing so hard that sweat was beading her nose and forehead. It was nearly one in the morning and she was wide awake with fear. Guilt. Wretched, wretched guilt and agony… She'd been crying so long that her abs ached and her throat was nearly bleeding – this was her just desserts…
Hermione felt utterly repulsed with herself while she willed her moist eyes to stay locked on to Fleur's closed ones. Even in slumber, she looked so strong and composed… Fleur would have probably retched for real if she saw Hermione in such a state.
The moonlight peeking in through the window above her head hid Fleur's face with such stark shadows while Hermione kept replaying that horrible memory in her head over and over again. It was all she could do in between praying that Fleur really would be alright…
Hermione was ever so thankful that she was breathing normally; whatever she couldn't vomit blocked her airway and she nearly choked before Hermione used the Anapneo spell while she carried her all the way to the Hospital Wing. Locomotor Mortis would have been sufficient, but Hermione felt so distraught that she needed to place the burden upon herself. It was foolish, but she didn't know what to think. Even now, her mind was still going off like mad and she just wanted it all to stop… Right when she'd gotten Fleur's friendship, this went and happened. She startled Fleur and made her breathe in that poison and stab herself with the thorns on that flower she was trying to get rid of…
Fleur thought about suicide… She was miserable in her own ways… How could Hermione have made so many assumptions about her? Why didn't she even think to look past her cold eyes and get to know the real Fleur? When she conceded during that Duel all those years ago, that was Hermione's sign that the girl was harmless! But no… No, she couldn't realise that. She'd even gone so far as to forget all about her chivalry…
Even now with Fleur's beauty still radiating so strongly in this dark room, despite her weak state, Hermione admired her beyond belief. It was impossible for anyone else to still look so assured and powerful in their own ways lying in a hospital bed…
But a peaceful allure entwined with her natural sex appeal was exuding from her, and Hermione once more felt that strong tug in Fleur's direction. The pain in her heart lessened slightly whilst she monitored Fleur's breathing, and her tears slowed down. Silent streams fell from her aching eyes now while she prayed to be able to see the blue of her…friend's eyes. Sooner rather than later…
Just as Hermione caressed Fleur's warm hand with her thumbs, Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall and Dumbledore emerged from the nurse's office. They walked carefully to the mourning Gryffindor and her friend, all three of their faces sombre and pained. Hermione felt a harsh tug downward on her heart from the sight out of the corner of her eye, but her darkened orbs never left Fleur's sculpted face. A sleeping Aphrodite, battling with something she inflicted upon her…
Guilt…guilt…guilt…
"Miss Granger," Pomfrey said softly. Hermione sniffled in response. "I've found out the nature of Miss Delacour's condition… We're aware that you found her among a field of flowers with magical poisons from the samples we took from her gloves. I need you to confirm a few things. Just nod yes and shake your head no. Can you do that?"
Hermione nodded with much difficulty, trying in vain to scream at Fleur with her eyes to wake up… Even after her battles against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, she'd never felt this powerless before. It was draining her and she didn't know what to do with herself. But even worse, if Fleur didn't wake…
"Very well. Now…you're positive she inhaled the hallucinogen by accident?" Hermione nodded, choking back a sob… "The flower was white?" Another nod… "It was also accidental that she gripped the thorns?" Yet another nod… "Well… we've nothing to worry about. She will wake."
"Poppy," McGonagall said. "Please tell us the hallucinogens aren't really fatal…"
"No, no they're not. Miss Granger managed to get Miss Delacour up here in just enough time for me to cleanse her system as fully as I could. The thorns, however, contained mercury. The magical version of the flower, the datura meteloides, contains mercury in its thorns. She inhaled the hallucinogens as well, and she will suffer some hallucinations from time to time until she's recovered."
"And the mercury?" Dumbledore spoke gently. "She really has…?"
"Vertigo, yes…" Pomfrey said sombrely. Hermione choked yet another sob and McGonagall moved to put a hand over her shoulder. "But she can be treated fully in a few months' time. The vertigo causes nausea and the sensation of falling and dizziness at sudden movements… There's an imbalance in her ears, throwing off her natural balance. Walking will be hard, and even after she's treated she will need to undergo physical therapy. I suggest she not move much until then, but I'm worried about keeping her here—"
"I'll take care of her," Hermione choked out immediately.
"You are sure, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes… Yes, I'm positive, Headmaster… I… I feel so horrible…"
"It's not your fault, dear," McGonagall assured her. Hermione felt a heat rush to her cheeks but she stayed silent. "If anything, you're a hero for managing to find Miss Delacour…"
"But I am sure it would be a fine idea," Dumbledore reasoned, the twinkle in his eyes ever prominent. Hermione felt her stomach flip and clench with pure remorse. "We will have Miss Delacour carefully returned to her quarters. Miss Granger, would you mind assuming her title as Head Girl, at least until she has recovered?"
"That's…fine…"
"Very well then, it's settled. Poppy, do inform Miss Granger of the procedures to care for Miss Delacour and anything else you deem necessary. I have no qualms about either of them keeping up with school work once time allows. Either way, I will speak with the rest of your Professors on the matter in a few hours' time. Miss Granger, do let Madam Pomfrey clean you up. Professor McGonagall and I will have Miss Delacour in her quarters soon, and the Slytherin Common Room password will be issued to you by this evening. Do get some sleep. You've had a rough night."
Sleep was a word that was no longer in Hermione's vocabulary. Rest was something Hermione couldn't seem to come by while she lay in her four poster bed, surrounded by her roommates sleeping peacefully without a care. Her head trembled and her stomach quivered; the warm tears would not stop… Madam Pomfrey supplied her with a list of symptoms, treatment procedures, signs to look out for… Hermione felt like she was betraying Fleur by not being in the Hospital Wing with her still, but Madam Pomfrey refused to let her stay.
Thoughts of Fleur plagued her, ripped at her, screamed at her conscience – her mind kept yelling GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY over and over and over, ripping more tears from her bloodshot eyes. Hermione glanced at her palms, hands trembling; the sight of Fleur's blood there will forever be stained on her mind. The tips of her nails shone in the bit of moonlight peeking through her curtains, and she ran them and the rest of her hands through her hair while she turned on her side and curled into a ball; she barely even knew Fleur, but she felt insurmountable remorse over the whole ordeal…
Fleur wanted to be normal… by the sound of it, she was homesick. She was unsure of what she wanted, she was unsure of her future… She was just a normal human being. Hermione did hurt Fleur in her own ways. Ignorance, stupidity, obsession, greed, envy – that was Hermione. She attacked Fleur all these years with her boundless hatred and jealousy. And the worst part was that she felt completely justified about it all… Not once until last night did she take a step back and think about what she was doing.
It wasn't fair… Fleur didn't deserve this fate. Even if she didn't recover, Hermione was determined to watch over her until she couldn't anymore. Fleur was probably just scared of people, in her own ways… Scared because, maybe, they'd just end up hurting her… And now look what happened… LOOK, Hermione… Look at what you've done… Fleur has too much potential and ambition to waste her life away in a bed…
The only good thing that came out of this was that she had Fleur's friendship… she had a broader understanding of her, of life, of everything now. So much broader, brighter, and much more…depressing… But at least Fleur had a real friend now… Hermione was determined to show her that.
It wasn't until four in the morning that she drifted off to sleep, crying still, but hopeful to be the one to help Fleur in more ways than one from now on. She owed her so much more than she could give, but Hermione was still willing to try and do her best anyway…
Her eyes burned irritably from a horrible lack of sleep when she finally woke up a sad two hours later. Hermione rubbed her sore eyes and dragged herself out of bed to make some effort to at least wash up and change clothes. The thought of breakfast made the recollection of everything slap her in the face; she just wanted to go back to sleep…her roommates were still knocked out…
Hermione's throat prickled incessantly while she stood at the sink; she felt too weak with shame from the way she'd been behaving so childishly for so many years. Washing herself seemed like such a difficult task while she avoided looking directly at herself in the mirror. Every time she'd wipe her face, more tears came… She gave up on her face and finished with the rest of her hygiene.
How could she finish off the rest of the week of school? Even just this day seemed so daunting… She couldn't face anyone like this. People will wonder where Fleur is… No one knew the whole story, but she still felt horrible for keeping it a secret – Madam Pomfrey had merely assumed that Hermione was just conveniently in the area…
It was very tempting to just lock herself in the loo, but Hermione shook the thought; she'd have the password by tonight, and she'd make every effort to visit Fleur during breaks when she could, then for longer periods of time after classes let out for the day. She wasn't sure if she should risk going to the dungeons now to see if any of them would be so generous as to let her in… No, that wouldn't ever happen…
She never thought she'd ever feel her world ripped from her feet. Not like this… It was because she didn't know Fleur that the fall was so horrendous. But she'd make it up to her…somehow…
Hermione's day was spent trying her best to stay focused in class, avoiding meals, and speaking to all of Fleur's Professors to make sure they knew their student would be in her care. Luckily, she and Fleur shared all of the same classes, if not all scheduled during the same period. Keeping her caught up with class shouldn't be an issue, then…
Fleur's absence was noticed by the entire student body. The Slytherins all looked particularly disgruntled when Hermione walked in the Great Hall for some kind of dinner, her stomach empty and head aching, but she was really only looking forward to someone delivering the password she needed to enter Fleur's quarters. Whispers of speculation nearly spun Hermione out of control and into another fit of sobbing all day, and these weren't any better. Sitting at the Gryffindor table across from Harry and Ron was difficult; she wasn't sure how to explain to them what happened… or if she ought to, anyway.
Picking at her food and eating bits at a time was all she could do. She tried to let her mind wander to mentally review the day's lessons, but that only kept her preoccupied for so long. Harry and Ron clearly noticed that she was off but said nothing. There was nothing they could do…
McGonagall walked over to her some moments later and handed her a folded piece of parchment before making her way to the grand table. Hermione didn't even have time to thank her before she was off, but she quickly unfolded the parchment and felt a small smile on her lips as she read.
Miss Granger,
No one but those who were in the Hospital Wing are aware of Miss Delacour's condition. If you are questioned upon entrance into the Slytherin Common Room, simply ignore them. The password is currently 'Serpensortia', and the door to Miss Delacour's room is enchanted to open with your hand, so you needn't worry about locks. Rest assured that she will wake soon, late tonight at the very latest.
Included is her Head Girl badge; I apologise for not having any Gryffindor-issued badges, but Headmaster Dumbledore believes you shan't mind. Once again, ignore questions about your title. If you must tell anyone about this, keep it to a stark minimum. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley at the most.
The notebook Madam Pomfrey prepared for you is also in Miss Delacour's room. Please use it to keep track of her progress, and to jot down anything else you deem necessary. Your services are greatly appreciated.
Professor McGonagall
Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief before clasping the badge and note to her chest for a moment. She bit her lip, wary of Harry and Ron's questioning gazes burning holes in her skin while she pocketed the note and her Prefect badge. They nearly squeaked in protest when she pinned the Head Girl badge on her chest, but she gave them a look that spoke enough – we'll discuss this later – before she finally finished the rest of her meal with a little more ease.
Still, she knew this wasn't to be taken lightly. Her spirits were lifted slightly from the good news that Fleur ought to wake tonight, but she felt slightly out of place now, taking her position. Especially when she looked down upon Fleur for earning it, instead of her…
The world really has turned upside-down at this point, but Hermione was very much determined to fix everything.