Beta: Wanted! (and needed)

Chapter eight: Hermiones War

Hermione rushed with decided paces through the corridors of St.MUngo´s. After she thought about the way she told him about his death, she could not help herself to have a bad conscious. Hermione would not take sitting down this; it should be cleared up…

So, Contrary to her yesterdays intention, Hermione went to look after Voldemort, again. Nevertheless, things would change now… Right, who was she after all? His servant? Absolutely NOT!

She was not as cowardly and Wormtail and not as subserviently as Bellatrix Lestrange. Definitely, she was not Bellatrix, Hermione shivered as she thought about the way Bellatrix had used to adore this disgusting man.

And Wormtail? He also had to take care for him, when Voldemort was this baby-like-creature before his return. Wormtail did this, because he had no other place to go. However, that was not the same for Hermione. Was able and allowed to go and to stay wheresoever she wanted to.

Only because the death-eaters treated him like a god, he was not one and she did not have to follow suit. No, now it was time to show same Gryffindor-Courage.

Yes, Hermione arranged a strategy to bring him back down to earth, to tell him some facts about who she was, and who he was not.

He was NOT her Master, and she was not his Servant. He was her "prisoner", of course also her patient. And above all, he was completely reliant on her. Therefore he shoud show her respect. A new worldorder would govern this room. Her on the top, he…somewhere down below.

When Hermione entered the room, she could have been almost crying as she saw the pitiable sight, which was presented to her. Still completely naked, the bony man appeared to be as numb and apathetic as on her first working-day. Moreover, his skin was dyed in a slight blue tone because of the coldness in the room, and he was awfully dirty. The flannel she battered him into his face, still lay side-slipped on his shoulder. The pillow and the mattress were splodgy because of the filthy brew she'd doused over him. The bedspread lay straightened up on the chair beside him.

And because he could not move himself, wore no diaper and lay like this for about two days… the bed looked like this. Not only that a awful smell had dispread in the room, the bed seemed to be soaking wet.

Anew she felt a trace of sympathy rising inside her, but she had to dissemble such thoughts if she wanted to go to this war.

Stamping as loud as a whole regiment, she came nearer, planted herself in front of his bed with arms akimbo. That looked not half as awe-inspiring as she had planned it, even so she'd trained to look like Sergant-Claris it in front of her mirror at home. No matter, she had just begun. To become more frightening, she put on a rehearsed cloudy face that surely had brought even Progessor McGonagal to hide under the next table, for fear.

The voice, at the beginning still a bit quiet, but constantly louder rising as she got more confident by talking on, Hermione started her lecture. "I know perfectly well you´re hearing me. Will you kindly look at me when I'm talking to you?"

No reaction at the first, but then, only for a short moment, the eyes seemed to look into her direction, before they turned back to the window. Hermione approached closer till she stood so closed to the bed that her waist disappeared behind the food of the bed.

"All right. I want to apologise myself". Now he couldn't help himself, his head twitched towards her automatically. He appeared to be astonished, but the expression of his face froze within seconds, while his gazes turned their attention back to the window again.

„I shouldn't have to let you lie there this way. And it was simply unfair and cruel that I left you alone yesterday, because I knew very well that you'd needed help. I won't do this anymore." Hermione took a deep breath and took heart for the next sentence. "And I'm dreadfully sorry you had to learn about your execution that way. I hadn't reflected if anyone ever told you about that before." apologised Hermione, who managed to preserve her poise, indeed. Hermione waited if this would have an effect on him. A bit more nervous, Hermione started to seesaw back and forth on her soles. This caused a clacking noise, which reminded her of a rocking-chair, or of the tick-tock from a time-bomb.

Tick-Tock.

Nothing happened.

Tick-Tock.

Voldemorts curled his lips and the red flamy coals in his face caught her brown, a little desiccated by the excreted staring, eyes.

Tick-Tock. Hermione stopped the seesawing and waited the timebomb to explode.

Overbearing and not a slightest hint of shame in his face, he nodded to her shortly. "All right, then." Was everything what the self-aggrandisingness in person wanted to reply to this.

Nearly loosing her poise, Hermione had to cling to the food of the bed to press the anger she felt out of her, into the bars. Hardly trying not to rip one of the bars out and beating it on his head.

She had resolved to stay calm, as she exercised her performance in the morning.

But nevertheless. All right…and further? Was that everything? Didn't he stroke to the idea that he might have had to apologise his outrageous behaviour too? No, a Lord had never to apologise himself, it was clear what he thought. But he could show something like relief because she came back, at least.

But then…his sight was so wretchedly. Hermione thought on the man he once used to be…a few weeks ago. And now…lonely, weak and ill. Always his own death kept in mind, the death he feared so much…hated by the whole world… no one would ever come to get him out of here again. No one, but the executioners who were already waiting for him. And all he could do was to think about that day in, day out. To think about he had lost everything what was imporent to him.

He was already beaten, shattered and prostrated. Was it necessary to retaliate at all? Yes sure, he'd done this (and he surly did in past) in any case…but she was not him. It was not in her to humble other people this much.

Nevertheless, she should not get off scot-free. Not for nothing, she had exercised the severest face Snape put ever on for more than three hours yesterday.

„One thing has to be clear. I will not put up with everything any longer. If I shall help you, then you must say "please" and "thank you" from now on. Resign to the fact that you need me. I´m no skilled nurse, I'm only here with you, not in the least voluntary, to disburden the personnel. Because after YOUR WAR." And her forefinger pointed even more dangerous as the once by him robbed Elder-Wand "they cannot cope with their work. If I'm a bit inexpertly, then you have to exercise patience. I do talk whenever I like and about whatever I want to. AND…"anew Hermione had to breathe deeply to forearm herself for what was coming now."I will never ever, and under no circumstances, call you My Lord and least of all Master. Do you get me?"

He looked at her half amused, half-sneering. Nothing seemed to impact on him. But he was calm and listened to her.

"If I address you, I will call you from now on Tom." A portentous glow flamed up in his red eyes after all. If looks could kill, Hermione were dropped dead here and now. She was somehow amused and frightened at the same by this, because she could almost watch how the plans-to-murder polluted around his head like ivy at the walls of old castles.

But Hermione went on to lecture him. "If you hate your first name all too much, I don't mind to call you Mr. Riddle. But to no time Lord Voldemort. Lord Voldemort is not longer existing. You are vanquished all along the line. Only to make sure that you got this right. I want you to take a little care, only the slightest bit, in getting along with me. We both have to stand each other on nearly ever single day in the next months. Something has to come from your side to make it more bearable to us. But if you should ever insult me again as you did it two days ago, then…" anew Hermiones forefinger rocket upwards and wagged minatory through the air, as if Voldemort had been a six your old boy who refused to tidy his room "I go and let you simply lie here. Is that clear?" the sneering expression in his face was given away to anger and bitterness. He compressed his lips, narrowed his eyes and bristled with anger.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and looked down on him in a vanquisher-pose. "Okay, then we are agreed. And if you are a good boy" now Hermione was struck by a glance which would had driven even marble statues to suicide, with fear "then I have something for you later on."

Hermione walked away from him, a superior smile in the face, to bring the left-behind trolley. Maybe she should go back to put him her foot on the chest. Hehehe…

For a few seconds was a dead silentness in the room. If he indented to be silent for the rest of his life? Ha, why not, Hermione thought triumphant. He would see what he would get from that.

But then sounded the well-known cold, dismissive voice of Lord Voldemort to her ears. "Clean me up. I don't want to lie here in the dirt. And I need something to drink, I'm very thirsty." Needless to say, the voice sounded roughly, his mouth was surely parched. Of course, without water for do days… Hermione turned around and looked expectant at him. As if would cause him terrible, corporal pains, he screwed his mouth and gagged a pressed "Please" out.

Hermione had to turn around very fast to hide her contentedly smile. But fast she managed to keep her poise. As she came back with the washbowl in the hands to clean him up, he shook his head energetically. "No, i´m really thirsty." Ruefulness creeped over her by his sight. Two days without water, of course it was more important to him to drink something. She deposited the heavy bowl and ignored the cold water that swashed over the edge on her feet, sat herself next to him on the bed and put the mineral water bottle on his lips, so he could drink something. And he did so, greedy and immediately. Much to fast so that chocked and coughed.

Tears came in his eyes, he almost unable to breathe he could not calm himself.

He was surely terrible embarrassed about his state. Dirty, helpless and still…completely naked.

Bit he didn't about how he looked, smelled or what had became of him, he was only a man who was petrified because he'd thought would have to die of thirst. The bottle was fast emptied. He drank the second one as fast as the first one. But ever more hastily and more greedy as the first one. Anew he chocked on the water so that he was shaken by a violent fit of coughing. He was unable to calm himself, his face turned red, tears came into his eyes and he stertoroused asphyxiating noises. Hermione grabbed the thin, white shoulders, heaved him up till he could sit

and slapped him in his back so he could cough out the liquid again. "It´s all right. I'm with you." Glaring red in the face with shame, she felt terribly ridiculous as she patted his back calming, lay him back in the pillows and gave him the rest of the mineral water to drink. As she continued to speak, her voice sounded warm and motherly. "I told you I'll take care for you. But you must never call me mudblood again and I never want to her evil words about muggles. Particularly not about my parents. Yes?"

He was not gainsaying and so Hermione graded his silence as a sign of agreement. She sighed and nodded her head, swept a brown curl away from her forehead and stood up. "Well, then we clean you up now."

Almost she had felt ashamed of herself because she now even infantilised this lunatic. He was no baby, so why she treated him this way? But how she had to behave else? He´d been a sinister menace for years. A menace without a face. In this former time, it had been easier to answer such questions…but now? Oh yes, Claris had found a perfect way to punish the young Gryffindorgirl for her reputed haughtiness.

Hermione had to fight an inner battle. A battle of four armies was broken out inside her.

The first army fought against Lord Voldemorts who planned to kill or enslave Harry, Muggles and if it would stand in his way, the rest of the world too. This army fought for the secureness of her own existence. It defended the good against the evil.

The second army fought for a needy creature who would not survive without help. This army fought for humanity and sympathy.

The third army defended Hermione against the assaults of the very creature. This army had to tame the evil thing inside this sickroom. So this army fought for her own well-being so that she would not disintegrated inwardly.

The fourth and last army had the worst battle-position. Because this army, after it tamed the creature, made them both familiar to each other and after it had taken care for it, yes…after all this, this army would one day have to turn him in to his executers.
All what she was fighting for would be destroyed by this army in early October. Maybe this army could get together with the first of her armies. But the terror figure these armies were in war with, was not the same person she saw when she looked down on the bed besides her. So the fourth army was the lunacy. Somehow the most honest of all her inner warriors, because those soldiers told her that it didn't matter what ever she would do, she would loose on every single way she could be about to go. How could a single person cope with so many oppositional tasks and how should hearth stand so many contradictorily feeling without bursting?

And ever worse, the young, small, brown haired girl did not know if her heart would burst with joy or with sorrow.

Hermione looked at him closely as she thought about her contradictorily tasks. He was so dirty and the bed too, she had to get him out of his couch to expurgate them both. But it was so unpractical to wash him on the chair or in the bed. No…but, where else?

Her big brown eyes rambled through the room to find something useful. The room was almost empty. Of course, no pictures, posters and decorations to detract from the dreary atmosphere of the muddy grey stone walls. Here and there hung candleholders so that the muddy grey colour in which this room was painted was supplemented by soot-blacked stains, which spread themselves out around the candles. On the left side of the room, the door side was a toilette in the sternmost corner. A folded up folding screen was carelessly lent against the wall. Besides this toilette and on the other side of the room, the side were Hermione stood next to her Patient, were washbasins. On the right side of the room were three little window which had the height and the form of shoe-cartons. Voldemorts bed was near the first window. If he looked straight ahead, he could see an old cast iron bathtub. Black stress marks on the white flaggins proofed that the bed must have been standing in the middle of this room side before. Undoubtedly, they pushed it to the right so have always had the look at the bathtub he wasn't allowed to use. The personnel was resourcefully in torture-methods.

He was quiet simply to dirty to wash him with a flannel. It would be so much easier if she could sit him in the thumb to wash him up with the onmounted showerhead. Afterwards she could let the tab run to fill water in the tub, and while she cleaned the bed, he could soak in the bathtub. Good idea…but how to get him in the tub? Was it really forbidden to her to wash him in the washtub? Probably, it was not allowed so show him so much kindness to him. Maybe…but she did not care about this because it was much too unpractical to do in on another way.

But how to get him there? Apparte? Definitely not…that was neither allowed nor possible. She looked around, but no wheelchair or something like that were standing around in the room. Of course not, he should stay in this bed for the rest of his life.

Although he was so skinny and thin, he was still too tall to hump him there. Maybe…only perhaps…even it was not allowed he could…walk the washtub. Helen showed her how the banns were laid on him, which lamed him. She knew how to take the banns away. But this was certainly to most forbidden thing she could do. With a good cause,… it was perilous to set him free. Otherwise,…she didn't had to take all the banns away, it would be enough if she only loosed his legs and not his arms too. She looked at him and on this muscelless legs… he had not used his legs for weeks. No, he would not be able to run away…so…maybe…why not.

"I'm going to exempt your legs from the banns. When I will help you to walk to the washtub over there." If he'd heard her, he did not show it…his face was and stayed numb…except of his mouth because he bit himself on his lips. However, his numbness was gone as she now stood beside him and he tensed up as he recognized Hermiones wand over his body. Now he appeared to be interested in that she was doing, not in her…he avoided to look her into her eyes. But her hands holding the wand were obviously something else. It took her some time to accomplish the charm she needed, but he waited patiently and in some way…this was more scarier as the words he said to her before.

He looked…not anxious but nervous. As if he had a really good idea in exactly the moment he felt the life arising again in his body.

But Hermione was lost in thought and so she paid no attention to the hinted smile at his lips.

Maybe he had used this body-banns himself to keep his captives calm, maybe he invented them himself…and now exactly this banns were used to hold him captured. Irony of fate…

If he was as weak as he looked? Wouldn't it be possible for him to him to overpower her in spite of underfeeding and the long time motionlessness?

Anew she hoisted him and sat him upright in the bed. And really…as she took these long, marrowless legs and pulled them over the edge of the bed, she sensed a slight tremor and felt how muscles cramped and relaxed again, while useless and nerveless arms sagged.

But he was still to weak to walk himself. He buckled were almost downfallen as she stood him on his own feed he. No, he was not able to walk (or to be seriously dangerous to her….hopefully) so she had to shoulder him and if she had not also used a support-charm, they had never managed it to go those steps from his bed to the bathtub.

He didn't say much this morning, avoided to look into her face and ignored her. Humiliated and vanquished? Perhaps, but a silent Voldemort was so much better as the constant verbal attacks of the last time.

All the books about care and clean charms she'd read paid for themselves because Hermione had to bear the burnt with his bed, while he soaked in the bathwater. But no matter, she swore to herself that, if he would become only a bit friendlier, she would exert herself for him.

After all the washing was done he was totally lamed back in his bed, she said beside him, brought the newspaper which had lain on the trolley and did as if she was going to read it to him. But she didn't and instead of reading she paused for a moment and gave him a conspiratorially smile.

I've told you I would have something for you, haven't I? Have a look…" her small hand disappeared in her hospital-cloak, only to appear a few seconds again with a little beaded handbag.

A few seconds he still seemed to be resolved to continue ignoring her, but then he broke his silence in a visibly annoyed tone „What shall I do with it?".

His red eyes daggered at her but Hermione stayed calm, smiled and waggled anew the handbag in his face. "Oh, it's not the handbag. My surprise for you is IN this handbag." She pulled the handbag back near to her, opened it and dug with an outstretched hand, mysterious strumming, into the handbag. After she'd found what she had been looking for, she conjured, as if she pulled a rabbit out of a hat, three, big, filled sandwiched forth.

Neither the Elderwand nor all possessions of the Hogwarts founders put together could have been causing such a greed in his face as those sandwiches did. He hadn't had something to eat for ages. His was devitalised and after the last two days without anything, completely famished. An animalistic expression screwed up his face as the bread was held in front of his face.

Oh sure, Hermione was aware how ridicules it was to treat Lord Voldemort like an infant, but it was easier to her this way. If she managed it to let him shrink, she would be able to enlarge herself. And then there was no need to fear him, more or less. Otherwise, she would by broken by her task, or she would go mad. No…it was better to shrink him. Altough Voldemort probabyl wouldn´t like it. But who asked him? No one…

No, he didn't say thank you to her, but who would have been expecting this? Nevertheless, he was certainly grateful as she feed him with small-cut sandwiches while she read the newest death-eaters uncoverings to him.

She was more than delighted with herself as was leaving in the afternoon. Her triumph went sky high as Voldemort threw her a bored "Thank you" after her as she was nearly gone out of the room.

VICTORY! Hermione the lion tamer…snake tamer…what ever…

Regrettably, it was not possible to Hermione to savour her triumph all too much. Voldemort might have decided that it was better to ignore her than to say a friendly word. But Hermione wouldn't have had time to talk to him because he after the shock over his revealed execution he fell ill again. Voldemort called it gastric flue, Hermione called it a panic reaction of existential fears.

His upcoming dead, the loosing off al of his horcurxes, his brutal defeat and his own death he couldn't oppose anything against brought him to his knees. Only once he addressed to her on the next day. „When will they do it and how?"

Hermione had just been busy cutting his nails, but winced as she heard his voice so that she'd nearly cut him into his toe. She looked up with surprise, but as her brown eyes met the former glimming, but now extinguished red eyes she had to lower her gaze because she was not able to look into his face while conversing with him about that issue. "I don´t know it exactly. I´ve heard something about end of September or early October, but I think end of September is more likely. They want to do it as fast as possible." Hermione tried to swallow the unpleasant lump in her throat. She coughed nervously and paid her attention to his feet again. "By the way, i´ve lied. There is no coffin behind your door. You have been measured but…" a hasty glance into his frozen face and she had to avert her gaze again, but her even so she tried to make her voice sound uninvolved her red turned face betrayed her tensed mood. She was done now with his feet and so she stood put, pulled her chair a bit nearer to him and tampered with his fingers. After a few seconds of silence she harrumphed and glimpsed. He was visibly strung out and lurked for what she was else going to say. "The ministry doesn't want to give birth to a new place of pilgrimage. They want to delete you totally. That's why they'd chosen to…the death-chamber…they…".

"Enough!" interrupted her Voldemort gruffly. Then he mumbled more to himself as to Hermione "So that's the way it all ends…". Hermione stared to his fingers and sure she'd never cut nails so thoroughly as she did it this morning. But even this work was bearable was continuing with this kind of conversations. Oh no, he wasn't sorry for him or for his destiny…but being confronted with other peoples death was since the battle-of-Hogwarts something, she never wanted to experience again.

But anyway, shortly afterwards he felt sick again and instead of talking, she brought him a bucket. The third time he had to vomit today. No matter how other she gave him something to drink, those short two or three hours a day were just not enough to compensate the liquid shortage he had by the flue.

Finally was Saturday and she looked forward to be rid of him for the next to days, so she had much free time for herself and Ron. Rid of him and of sorrows she did not want to have but she wasn´t able to shake off. All she had to do was to tidy up, and when she could go.

Voldemort was rather confused today. Three times, he called her Bellatrix and as he wanted to hear the same newspaper article for the fourth time, she answered him, finally on the edge. "I've read it to you for three times now. I don't feel like reading it a forth time. And what's more, I am not Bellatrix Lestrange, my name is Hermione." The brown-haired young women struggled against the unloved renaming.

He appeared to be confused for a moment, but then Voldemort replied in his usual majestic manner. " I don't feel particularly well, but unobservant as you are, you noticed nothing thereof. Go and bring Severus to me, he shall brew a potion to me."

Hermione dropped some towels with shock. Slowly, pressed and carefully she replied. "Severus Snape is dead. You have killed him."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes as if he was cogitating exerted, then he retorted angrily. "Oh yes, I remember. How unfavourable. Then go and search for Nagini. I think we could brew the potion ourselves, if we had some snake poison." although that was as unfriendly as usual, it sounded much quieter than before. Of course, he was always pale, but today he managed it to look even sicker as few days ago.

With eyes wide opened and the voice slowly and appeasing, Hermione acquiesced. "Okay. I'm going to look for Nagini. I'll be soon back."

The Aurors were rather astonished as they saw Hermione coming out of the room without the trolley, they were even more astonished as Hermione hastened away and shouted, she would be back soon. One of them, a tall, black man yelled at her if she had been attacked, but Hermione did not answer because she was already out of he forensic wing and rushed upstairs.

Things could not go on like this. He was obviously so dehydrated that he became deranged. If she wouldn't undertook something soon, he would die in her hands of. And he shouldn't die…it was her job to keep him alive, till... but the end of this sentence was not important now, and so she sought advice by the first person she met. Head Nurse Claris, just back from her sick certificate, stamped towards Hermione not as if she walked through corridor in he hospital but rather as if she marched across a battle-field to go to the next best war. "What are you doing here?"

Hermine took a step back and sighed. Claris wasn't here first choice, but better as no one. "I´m sorry head-nurse. It´s because of my patients. He scares me." And in the moment she said it she heard herself how silly it sounded. Claris appeared to endorse her. "So what? He scares all of us. Pull yourself together and go then you go back to him. Certainly YOU know how to handle him." The warlike medicine-woman gave out.

Hermione rolled her eyes annoyed. "No, that´s not why I'm here. He´s Strange. He gets not enough water and now he is ill. Gastric flue. I think he's dehydrated because the most time he's in a kind of a twilight state and he says odd things. Calls me by wrong names and asks me for people who are already dead and…".

"HE SPEAKS?" barked St.Mungo´s Watchdog back. Embarrassingly Hermione became aware that she had not noticed this fact in her reports. "Erm…yes…since…yesterday. But he speaks only muddled stuff. I really think someone should look after when i´m not there tomorrow." she asked for some understanding. But Claris was used to dismiss young girls as Hermione. "Miss Granger. Do you really think we would not have enough own work? I´m going to tell you what I believe. Your patient killed so many people in his past so that he is not able to remember who he'd already killed and who not yet. And now go downstairs, write a detailed report to me about what he talks to you and take your mind of what happens to him on Sunday. If you will ever have the feeling again, that you should ask me such questions, please go home and accost your library card. That's all." After giving this sneering advice, Claris opened the door behind her and disappeared in a nirvana o flannels, towels and bedpans.

Humiliated and helpless Hermione turned around and went back downstairs to her cellar-whole. He appeared a bit clearer again, neither he called her Bellatrix nor asked for dead people so that Hermione calmed herself down. Maybe he was not in such a serous state as she had thought. So she decided to hung her sorrows together with her hospital-cloak into locker, took a deep breath (but rued it immediately as she the hospital odour) and set out for the burrow.

The last week pooped her indeed. No she needed some distance. She understood Harrys feelings so well…it was awful to have this man inside of the own head (and mind). How appeasing it was to banish him from there…even so it won't be long.

xXx

She succeeded not completely. The atmosphere in the burrow was tensed. Fleur was pregnant and oversensitive. Ron did his best to make plain to Geroge why he first wanted to finish the school, before he would join the jokeshop. Ginny tried to persuade her mother to let her go out with Harry tonight. Percy and Mr Weasley quarrelled over the question if it was maintainable from the ministry when agreed to withdraw the charge against the Malfoys, then they could catch convinced death-eaters instead of them.

Hermione tried hard to ignore those family disputes. Not for the first time she had the unpleasant feeling of sitting in the heart of something she did not belong to. Like always, it was easier to read a back then listening to those quarrels. She thumbed through an exemplar of "fastest effective magic potions." And tried to find something in there about the correct use of snake venom in heal-potions. In all likelihood, Lord Voldemort had invented his Strengthening potion himself, so it was actually superfluously to search for it in a book she bought in Flourish & Blotts, but it was still a welcome excuse for ignoring the Weasleys. She found a few lines about healing unicorn blood, but firstly it was impossible to her to get that, and secondly a wrong use of the ingredients could end deadly.

Harry probably felt also unpleasant about the Weasleys differences, and so he sat next to her and had a look at the opened sites. "You´re learning again? What for? School or your job?" without waiting for an answer, he snatched the book away from Hermione and took a closer look at the next site she'd just flipped open. "Serpent-Potion?" he goggled about what he had discovered so that Hermione got a bit time to cook up a new excuse. "Yes…it's for…ill snakes." Her face turned red as she felt to heat, which was rising inside her.

"Of course I'm no snake-healer, but snakes are rears snakes and I think I've read sometime about a serum which contains snake venom. And so I…try to find it."

"Hermione, you're no animal-healer." He gave back in a doubtfully tone. He chewed on his lips as his eyes run anew over the lines and with every additive word he read, his and his face clouded more an more.

„I know mainly one person who mixed snake venom in potions. Maybe you should page a few sites forwards, I'm sure you will find something about unicornblood too."

It was obvious what Harry was driving at. If he only knew…if they all knew… "No, you're wrong" she stammered, but Harry shook his head annoyed and closed in on her. "You're Book. Hermione…I thought you had abandoned this idea. Well, your decision, but I'm not going to give you a single interview." And with these words he stood up, threw the book back in her hands and walked over to Ginny, who seemed to be successfully because she smiled while Mrs Weasley left the room with a disapproving muttering.

"Too bad. But if you change your mind…". She yelled and tried to give her voice a disappointed tone. Harry turned around and waggled negatory with his hands. "No, thank you. Last week I've got an official letter from Kingsley. Looks if I had to testify against some death-eater, probably end of September or early October. That´s enough…".

The book fell rumbling from her lap and what luck, Harry paid his attention to Ginny so he did not she how pale Hermione turned. Harry had to testify against…Voldemort. Sure, that was clear. And they would come and see and understand and… hopefully not what Hermione was afraid of now. The absolute end of her friendship.

A big shock waited for her on Monday. It was obvious that nobody visited him since Friday. Apart from the fetidness, which was caused by two soap-less days, he wasn't approachable anymore too. Anew she hastened upstairs in the hope of finding help in the upper floors.

She begrudged Claris the triumph his dead. And she begrudged HIM the joy of haunting her as a ghost. He he died, it would be the ultimate proof to him that she was as incabably as he always said.

The situation was easy to see through it. If she would be honest and said whom she needed a medicine for, nobody would help her. The personnel dismissed her and her sorrows on him, or they thought that he deserved it to day. Oh sure, Hermione thought so too…but until…sometime…it was her job to prevent this and Hermione took her task very seriously.

Anyway, she´d already considered another way. She rushed to the spell damage wing and..waited…waited…and waited. It was more than enough to drive her crazy. Not until 30minuted Nurse Helen came out of the looked ward, pushing an empty bed off (was the patient healthy or dead?).

"Oh hello Hermione, I can't have a break now. Maybe later on…if you want to go to the visitors tearoom with me later on…about 14h?" Hermione nodded first tantalised, but when she shook her head. "Don´t know… I feel so sick today."

"Hmm, you´re really looking alike. What's wrong with you?" motherly worried Helen came a bit nearer to Hermione and eyeballed her. "You're so pale…are you ill?"

The young Gryffindor shrugged and nodded. "Gastric flue… that´s so disgusting and i´m somehow wobbly on my feed." She pretended in a rehearsed laments.

Instantly the visibly frightened Helen took a step back. "Oh…you poor thing. And in a hospital…gastric flue. That´s not good. Better you come along with me." Helen went back to the spell-damage door and shoved Hermione through the door in a small room right behind the door, went to tall cupboard, dug into it for a few moments and fished a bluish gleaming ampoule out.

"Here…three gulps and you're back on you're feed again. Take the whole ampoule with you… you never know." Helen took the ampoule, put it into her cloak and staggered in a feigned weakness downstairs again. Satisfied she rubbed her hands. But no, she was not as contented as she should be… because she knew, if she'd betrayed the real purpose of this potion to Helen it would be as unachievable to her as the gold in fort knox.

Voldemort looked comatose as she entered the room, but she only had to instill four gulps in him four gulps and he awoke. Half an hour later and he appeared to be clear and responsive again. But then…

„Are Bellatrix and Severus in this hospital too?" he muttered between to further gulps she filled into him.

Hermione deposed the medicine on his beside table and asked herself if she gave him maybe too much of that potion. "Nnnooo" she stammered nervously. "They´d died during the battle…".

Then she heard Voldemorts usual impatient-annoyed voice again, stronger and clearer as before. "Of course I know what. I saw them dying myself, but…" and the voice shrunk again and became doubtful. "But I am considered dead but still I am here. I just thought maybe…" but Hermione already shook her curls. „No…they're all d… dead. Only with you they committed this…mistake."

She pressed her lips together and then bit in them, swallowed to get the lump out of her throat.

The evil word with „D"suffocated her throat so that she was rather surprised as she noticed that she still could breathe.

He turned his head away from her and gazed out of the window. Watched a world he would never see again in freedom.

Tom Riddle. Nomen est omen? Anew he became silent for the rest of the day, from time to time he glanced at her, seemed as if was trying to say something, but averted his gaze as he noticed that she returned the look.

Hermione puzzled over the question if it might be that he really missed one of his former followers…was he able to regret the death of another person? Or wasn't it more likely that he just thought about the remaining was to get out of this prison?

R & R ?