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Beta: Wanted (desperately)

Chapter 10: Treatment attempts

Good friends are were to build up and support one another, but also to share fears, problems and sorrows together. Yes, that's the way it should be… Together should many things be easier to stand. Together it was easier to find new ways in solving problems. Nice idea…but regrettably, Hermione Grangers reality was completely different tonight.

A few days after she took the bans from Lord Voldemort for the first time, Hermione met with Ron and Harry once more in the Diagon Alley. Ginny also wanted to come along with them, but reading a newspaper article with an ob

ituary for died grade-mates, she preferred to stay at home. Ron and Harry read this article too, but they came all the same. They'd spent enough time sitting sad and ruminating at home, so they seemed to be glad getting a diversion.

Harry and Ron had laid their heads on the table ahead of Hermione. But the two young men were by no means fallen asleep or to drunk to sit up straight…

But for laughing.

Harry took pains to pull himself together, at least , as he drank out of the butter-beer-bottle in his hand to distract himself, but as it came clear it wouldn't work, he turned away from Hermione as the laughing fit rolled over him again.

Ron by contrast, gave free rein to his opinion. With the head on the table board, he lay in front of her and his clenched fists thumped over and over again on the bold creaking desk below him.

His laughers, if this noise could be called that way, evocated the despaired gargle of a drowning man. But Ron didn't drown, gnarling red it the face it became more and more impossible to him to sit straight up.

The head, seemingly hoisted up by unspeakable strength, was only held up by his hands as he gazed at her and chuckled for the thousand time this evening. "Hermione. You´re wonderful. Unique."

Annoyed at that all too friendly derision, Hermione sat cross-armed and cross-legged towards to him, white and controlled in the face, the lips pressed together as if she would fear bursting if only on of the words, which were crossing her mind, came out.

"I don't know why you are laughing. I don't see the joke!" she hissed angrily at her boyfriend.

Harry straightened up again, tried to speak but it did not seem as he was still able to coordinate speaking, laughing and breathing at once. So the last try ended in squirting butterbeer. out of his nose and mouth. Ron yowled at that sight again and even louder as before, while his head fell back on the table again, which now was trounced by the flat of his hand.

Harry, deep red in the face whipped the foam off his face. „Say it once again, Hermione. Please…".

Hermione, sitting bolt upright, facing her two friends, tried in defiance of that jeer, to confer a particularly dignity on her sight. In a majestic tone, she replied. "I see it this way… People are reflecting their environment and the way this environment approaches to them. That's ecological psychology."

"Hermione the farmer, with her own death-eater breeding." Ron interrupted her once more, as he managed it shortly to restrain the next laughter fit.

Affronted to the core, Hermione thought about how much sense it would make to tell those both ignoramuses the principle of her undertake. "That has nothing to do with farming, Ronald. I explain it to you."

"Oh yes, please…" it sputtered together with any more swallowed up beer out of Harry's mouth.

"Well, in a bleak atmosphere, you feel uncomfortable and will become evil. So you have to change the environment and it's conditions, if you want to make a change of the person possible. And because my patient is a bit…" Hermione harrumphed bashful „difficult, I try to change his mind with a friendly looking, interior design and my own positive vibrations. I've read everything about that… and well….it works." Hermione reported, as she tried to stab the both boys with her wagging forefinger and an undeniably argument "And wasn't I right as I told you to treat Kreacher kindly?"

"Positive Vibrations…GREAT!" was everything what Ron, during a new drum roll on the table desk, was able to utter.

The people around them started asking themselves, if Hermiones companions might have been drug addicted or lamed by the titillation curse.

The topic was still dangerous, but all the same it was possible to talk about, without yelling at each other angrily. Neither Ron nor Harry asked which person Hermione took care for. But it was clear that they thought it would be Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy Senior was hardly battered after the final. They knew he'd been brought to a hospital after the battle too. As far as Hermione heard from Helen, he did not stay long at St.Mungo´s. Soon after his admission, he'd been he'd been redeployed, together with the "Rest" (the ones, who were still alive) of his family, into a prison. But anyway… her friends didn't know that.

The mental picture of Hermione, who'd tried to make a better man of Lucius Malfoy, using pretty furniture, entertained her friends for hours. These Philistines…

„In addition, I tried to work with Feng Shui. Which means…I'd rearranged the furniture, not a lot of them by the way, so that the room now radiates harmony. Well, i´m thinking about hanging up some pictures . As a kind of a view… you know?" actually, Hermione regarded that as a brilliant idea.

Hermione ordered herself a utmost odd brew. She was still unsure if she should pay the compliment to it, of referring it to a drink. A pink, with silver filaments marmorated, evocating of soap, substance, which smelled of violets, stood in a long drink glass in front of Hermione and bubbled peacefully away. It almost seemed, as the drink-soap would have a life of its own, cause every time she tried to plug her straw in to wash away her anger, the substance gave way to the straw.

No matter where she plugged in, the brew pulled up itself on the glass-walls and tried to dodge. Hermione kept on trying to win that tag play, by spearing the drink with surprise attacks, faster and faster, she carried out her memories too them. „It´s really not silly. Look, the walls have been bare, grey and the plaster crumbled away. So I renewed it magically, and coated them with a new colour." insecure about the next reaction, she squinted up carefully, but the boys demanded her with inviting gestures, to go on. "Sun-yellow. That shall look friendly." As Hermione almost had managed to drink something, but the substance jumped surprisingly fast in an already emptied glass next to it, she detected out of the corner of her eyes, how Ron jostled Harry, while his mouth formed the words "sun-yellow." Pah! If they found it to be funny…

"Furthermore, I have conjured those odd, white bedcovers a bit cuddlier and recoloured them."

„Let me guess…GREEN! He's a slytherin, isn't he?" Ron's gaggling voice gave out. He seemed to find Hermions drink so exciting, that he waggled with both outstretched arms through the air to order himself the same.

Grateful about this distracting, Hermione lowered her gaze. Ron hit the nail on the head. Right. Green. So what? The head deep stooped over her glass, she lurked the seemingly peaceful slumbering, pink substance, which gave the impression to wait for the next drink-try-attack, while a mumbling under her locks came out. "Yes, Green. So what? And I have" now she leaned herself a bit more forwards. "conjured little, silvery snakes thereon. For decoration, you know?" before the both boys had once more the chance to hold forth about this, Hermione raised her straw as threatening as normally only her wand, pointed at a corner she was going to stick in, and then…WAMM! she finally made it to outsmart her drink, by boring the straw in the opposing side. The substance first sizzled and reared up angrily, but then had to admit its defeat, so Hermione could now try a first gulp.

Fascinated about this spectacle, Ron approached at the first, then followed by Harry, nearer to Hermione, so that they now sat on the same side of the round table, looking over Hermiones shoulder.

Strangely, but the drink, it tasted refreshing and a slightly sweet, didn't decrease in her glass after she drank something of the liquid.

„Self-filling, you know?" commented Hermione, as she saw the astonished looking faces to her left and to her right. „It's called „Elixir of Life." Of course it doesn't immortalises you, it's rather an allusion to it's life of it's own." and as it agreed, the finally vanquished brew gave out a gentle purr.

A young women in a shocking pink dress flew on a broom to them, but without clinging herself, because she already needed her hands for the two tablets she brought along on which the drinks have stood, she now gave to Ron and Harry. Two, not in pink but blue- and green-silver marbled, siblings of Hermiones drink sizzled and bubbled now angrily under the Gryffindor-boys noses.

Now a bit more self-confident - was it because of the alcoholic effect of the drink?- Hermione showed more of her project off to them. "And I got him same perfumed candles. Vanilla, Cinnamon and Mountinblossom… that shall distract him from the hospital smell. Yes, I ignited some for him, but…erm… perhaps he is allergic to them. It could also be that it was because he had gastric flu." Surely that was the reason, it's been the day after he asked for Bellatrix. The persisted sickness was certainly not an effect of Hermiones stubbornly efforts giving the dark lord some understanding to that appeasing smells.

"Well, I've also tried it with aromatherapy but…well, I fear it might can be smelled outside the room. But well, I believe there is a smell-blocker…nothing-in, nothing-out. Anyhow, I've put some small aroma bowls with soothing fragrances on his windowsills. It looks very nice, and now the entire room is fraught with the smell of Lavender, rosewood and jasmine. Colours and smells changing themselves daily, you know?" The breast swelled with pride, Hermione knew more good ideas she had to talk about, while Ron and Harry flashed each other amused glances behind her back.

"Besides, I got him a potted plant. Was a bit circumstantially to put it into my beaded bag. You now, the flower soil crumbed out of the pot over and over again out , but I accomplished that with a tighten-charm. Ah… I have to tell you about those flowers, they are great." Hermione remembered with a dreamy glance. "They are looking like violets, but they are bigger and pearl-whit, only the edge of the petals is silver-framed. Right. But the petals can change their colour. When he gets angry, the colour of the petals changes to blue. Then whole flower shines blue. I read about it in an article about colour-psychology. Blue makes people calm and appeased. Yes, and, in addition, the more he becomes angry, the more intensive becomes the blue of the petals. You see, the flower works like a sentiment indicator, so I called it a mood-flower. My own invention, you know? "

Hermione was pretty proud on herself, as she told about that difficult charm-inventions to her friends, ignored the laughter-fits to her right and to her left, but felt ashamed as she remembered the flower glaring blue like the deepest ocean, as she explained the effects of the small aroma bowls to Voldemort.

Where did they come to? Now that she thought of it… he'd forced her again to unloose him yesterday…and to help him walking through to room. If he'd managed it to spirit off the small aroma bowls? Well, she would obtain Aroma bowls anew…but this time she would fix it with a permanent sticking charm.

An elongated exultation-shout starlet her out of her consideration. Harry was the first of her companions who made it to vanquish his green-silver opponent. Shortly after, an orgasm-like bliss moan escaped Ron's mouth, as he also managed it to stick his straw into the rebelling liquid.

„What did your colleges say to it? Have they finally looked in on him?" Ron enquired, after he calmed himself again.

Yes, what did Claris say? No, Claris hadn't looked after him since the day of his admission, but of course, she'd read all of Hermiones reports and so she found out about her therapeutic endeavours. That day was the first day, Claris patted her commendatory on the shoulder. She wouldn´t have been expecting such filed torture-methods from Hermione.

„Well, the head nurse loved it. She meant, she´d thought I couldn´t be capable to such a richness of ideas. I would have been even more fancy as she self."

Harry, one leg on the floor, the other besides him on the round settee, that encircled the round, ebony black table, made a face as if she was a small child that just had asked how all the small people came into the television.

"Well, you say there's no warm water, only thin spreads, nothing to eat and so on. Gee! Hermione your new cruelties have certainly impressed her."

With a slight rubescence, Hermione realised her friend had to be right. Obviously Claris had regarded this as a joke. But, was her opinion thereon interesting at all?

Did she know how it was like, having to be together with this man day by day? She had to do something at all.

On the one hand, because she really felt a kind of motherly emotions inside her, but on the other hand, also because she had to distract herself from the quiet threat that always seemed to float around him.

Than he put those spells on her, as she'd been in his power… Even without a wand, only by the sound of his voice, he could have been forcing her to do a murder.

She thought about it. Why haven't he tried overmastering he? He must been considering that he had small odds. Not in overpowering her, but in fighting against the four the armed Aurors in front of his door, and all the other ones who were based all around the hospital. No, without a wand he wouldn't get far.

Also, as well, he needed her. She was useful to him.

She kept on telling this to herself, to calm down. Moreover, as Hermione had come to his room as the healers and Aurors stayed with him, she heard them saying that they put a tighten-Curse on him. The whole thing worked similar to Harrys Marauder´s Map, so the Aurors could watch him at any time and at any place he might was in the hospital. In addition, this special curse debarred him from moving his body even one inch out of the hospital. A magical glue… no, not right, a magical dog leash. However, he would die if he set only one feet where it did not belong. And of course…the body-memory-charm of her wand, how grateful she was for this charm, made it impossible to him, to touch Hermiones weapon.

However, he wasn't able to charm…well, to charm in a exalted manner, and the tighten-curse bared him from any run-, walk- or fly away trials. Really? Hermione distinguished that, because of he still was able to use her as a Marionette… Aboulic…and he could force her to give the wand to him. But he should try to do so…he wouldn't be able to touch it. Hopefully.

„Iiihii…it tickles in my nose" yelled Ron himself back into her memory, as he rubbed his face with both hands.

Well, Hermione had to admit to herself, that Lord Voldemort himself didn't particularly appreciate her efforts to pacify him. Therefore he could not kill her, he preferred to do as if she wasn't around. This whole thing was so undignified to him, that he didn't even want to resist against it.

Ah…what did he know at all? If he knew what was good for him, he wouldn't be predicament now. Ron and Harry may found her way silly, Dumbledore might have tried it in another manner, but to be honest…everyone else who tried to change Voldemort behaviour failed miserably. It couldn't get worse. She could only win.

And so he became her child. A 6 foot 3 inches tall, tending to outbursts of violence, pale, thin child without a nose, but outfitted with tremendously magical skills. But yet, her fosterling.

Only once Hermione had seemingly exceeded the limit of what Lord Voldemort was able to ignore. That day Hermione told him overjoyed, that since her first s.p.e.w. days it was so immensely relaxing to her, to knit hats, socks and mufflers for enslaved elves. Full of pride, she'd showcased a pair of kittling needles to him, as a matter of course, not without the

appending wool in slytherin-green, and challenged him to try it likewise.

The bunch burst into flames within seconds.

„Please tell us once more about his underwear" Ron begged, who skipped closer to her and laid his arm fatherly on her shoulders,

„Hey, that's not my fault. Such wasn't my intention." Hermione defended herself with might and main. "Those hospital-people haven't given him something to put on. So I bought him a boxer-shorts-undershirt combination." Flooded by embarrassing memories, Hermione had to interrupt her speech for a short moment, so she saw Ron and Harry waiting, full of enthusiastic anticipation, for what was coming now. "…and I don't have much money, so I had to buy him what was on special offer. And that was…light-blue with pink florets on it."

A bang, a crash, and Ron was fallen with a loud outcry rewards from the settee. Harry, who noticed that, rolled, unable to straighten up himself, loudly shouting down the settee.

„Will you pull yourselves together" Hermione sizzled grimly downwards to her friends. "They'll kick us out, because they think you're drunk."

Two heads emerged anew over the table, followed by four arms, which hoisted the two bodys , belonging to the Heads.

„Maybe they regard us as such drunk, that they admit us to St.Mungo´s. I'd always wanted to see Lucius Malfoy in florets-Boxershorts." gaggled Harry. "Right. Maybe Rodolphus Lestrange is there as well. Now that he hasn't got a wife anymore, he can stick with Lucius. They'd only need some black leather-gear and then they can play seaman and tart." Ron squeaked out, and made it in the last second to utter that sentence, before the next laughter fit overmastered him, so that he had to cling himself on the table. His face turned dark blue, because he forgot to breathe because of all that laughing.

What was so ridicules at it?Ih she haden´t given him something to put one, he´d been naked for the rest of his life. Hermione hadn´t got much money and this underwear-combination was on special offer, so she simply had to hit it as it's been on offer at wal-mart.

Voldemort hadn´t said anything, but a single glance was enough for Hermione to recognize, that he, if he have had a phone at his fingertips, had jettisoned all his misgivings against muggle-technics to call the next psychiatry to admit Hermione therein, because that was exactly the moment, Hermione, in his opinion, went insane.

Oh…he shouldn't make such a fuss about it. One single swing with the wand was enough, to turn sky-blue and pink into deep black. That way he put it on. The next special offer she found, was already coloured into grey as she delivered it to him.

And Ron and Harry knew very well, that it had been a question of money.

„Do you still listen to that cuddle-music?" Harry enquired, who appeared to be hell-bent on sitting out this conversation with a even a small rest of dignity, why he watched some dancers on the other side of the room for distraction.

The performers flew on brooms all across the stage. They stood wild dancing on the broomsticks while firing silver curses, flying trough thunderous, outrageous lightening fireworks.

"Erm…well…no. It was no cuddle-music. It was rather an…insert in a trade journal. It was said, that this music would ease tensions and attune peacefully. But it was more a kind of elevator music." Hermione sighed, who now also watched the play on the stage attentively.

The dancers were flown away. Instead of them, 12 other persons faced the audience. They built a circle and took at breathing red, green, blue, silver or golden flames and fireballs , which took the forms of animals. Those animals floated above heads of the fire-breathers-circle, and lacerated each other in time with the music. Impressing, but barbarian. Hermione had to turn away.

„My patient said nothing to it, but after three days, I couldn't stand it myself and now we only here some music from the wizarding wireless network. So, no relaxation-music anymore." Hermione was honestly relieved, she abandoned this part of her plan. Three days of instrumental sleep-music for babies was more as she was able to take.

But she would not give up so fast. And in some way, she had to engage him. Her pedagogical valuable books and magazines told her, that children would need a task, an achievement or a work so to speak, to engage themselves…otherwise they might get up to some mischief. Children would need working and resting periods. Well, lamed as he was, Lord Voldemort had enough resting periods. Voldemort lacked for occupation.

She barley could smuggle a wand to him, only for the reason, he got something to play with. Although he would certainly not burn it. Fortunately, he wasn't able to purpose the goals he had in past any longer. So why shouldn't they try something knew? The idea of kittling was actually not so bad. Really not, Hermione thought forwardly.

Now that she took the bans from his upper body from time to time, he needed something to do. And she truly didn't want to think about the occupation HE would choose.

„Have you already hired him for spew?" Ron went on amusing about Hermiones dedication.

The one he asked hid herself hasty behind an outsized drinks menu, and tried hard to let this look like an interesting reading.

She didn't feel like even thinking about this episode. No, of course, she did not ask the dark lord to join s.p.e.w. She'd only explained the sticker on her cloak to him. Well, the good thing about it was, that the mood-flower´d shone almost white. But…he could have been laughing a bit quieter and not so sneering.

But Ron now had to ask her more serious question. He still smiled at her, but his eyes proved him as a liar. "You still don't want to tell us who he is? Was it him… the one we know? Is it someone we know, at least?"

She couldn't look into his eyes as she answered him. "No, sorry…I must not tell anything about him. Let it, Ron. A quarrel would arise over it again."

„But I'm still worried about it." Ron brooded about those things with a worried mien. "And listening to you makes me feel…well… You do so much for a man I'm not allowed to ask about. In some way I feel sorry for him, but anyhow…". Now he didn't appeared to be amused in any way, in spite of this, he threw a short, anxious glance at Harry, so it came clear to her, that they'd hashed and rehashed this subject before.

„You get him underwear, you're listening to music with him, you even read books to have more ideas, instead of learning school-stuff… I have to confess, I feel a bit jealous of him. You seem to go out of your way to get along with this guy."

Ron was jealous of Lord Voldemort? Now Hermione was the one who entertained her neighbourhood, as she burst out shrill laughing. "Oh, don't worry." She reassured her nervously winking boyfriend, as she patted, a little boastful, recompensing his head. "There's no danger. Not at all."

And she shuddered at the very thought of her first day in the hospital.

What do you think about Hermiones therapy trials?

Reviews? :o)