A/N: Okay, exams are over, work is a bore, and I have plenty of time to write! An update for you. I know I said first week of June, but it was a very testing chapter...lots of revelations and hints of things to come. Look forward to your thoughts! Enjoy! x
She could feel a hand on her shoulder, and a gentle shake. "Granger?" the voice whispered, somewhat urgently.
Hermione stirred. She was wrapped tight in something rather heavy which weighed down on her, making it difficult to shift. Exhaling, she focused on her comfortable state of being, her relaxed state bringing a small smile of satisfaction to her face.
She heard her name again. "Granger!" the voice hissed.
She emitted a small groan, feeling rather irate that her wonderful sleep had been disturbed. She opened her eyes and turned to the intruder.
The room was dark, but there was no mistaking that hair.
"Malfoy?" she whispered, incredulous.
He was hovering over her, and she could just make out his features as the moonlight slithered through the window behind her. His stormy grey eyes widened with what looked like relief as she spoke his name.
Disoriented, Hermione looked about the room, noticing that she was in the Infirmary. "What...what happened?" she asked hoarsely. Her throat was coarse and she felt like she hadn't spoken for days.
"You fainted." He replied blankly, falling heavily into the chair next to her bed. "Two days ago."
What?
"Wh- what?" she asked in disbelief, her voice stronger, her expression shadowed with confusion. Malfoy's face remained inscrutable as he watched her reaction carefully. He looked tired.
"You don't remember?" he asked.
Her brow furrowed, trying to comprehend the fact that she had just lost two days of her life. Her recollection of anything was hazy; she felt muddled, disengaged. She looked down at her wrapped state.
"What am I covered in?"
"It's old magic, used before healing charms."
"Why do I need old magic?" She was utterly confused and too groggy to try to make sense of it. It was strange enough that she was speaking to Malfoy in the cool isolation of the moonlit Infirmary.
He remained silent.
Hermione was too tired to press him, let alone remember her question. "Why am I here?" Her mind really was scattered. Hadn't she already asked him that?
"You fainted." She was too out of it to notice the hint of amusement in his voice.
"Oh, right. You said that," she muttered.
She could feel herself drifting off again, a dead weight consuming her body while her nerve endings pinched in the most...sleep inducing way.
"Why are you here?" she looked up at him through her lashes. Her lids were beginning to droop.
She was fighting it.
More silence. "Blaise sent me."
"Oh." She was not going to last.
"Granger, don't -"
Hermione didn't give herself a chance to consider his statement. Sleep consumed her while the fact that she had just had the most civil conversation, ever, with the Head boy completely escaped her overwhelmed state.
Signs of rustling stirred Hermione's consciousness. She was breaking out of her deep sleep, her mind acknowledging the world around her once again as the murmur of a soothing voice began to register.
"...can you hear me?"
Hermione mumbled her acquiescence as she opened her eyes to a smiling Madam Pomfrey.
"Hermione, dear, how are you feeling?"
Taking a moment to consider her current state, she did feel remarkably, well...fine, aside from the drowsiness. But really, she couldn't recall what she felt like before. She looked about the room; no one else was present. It was early morning. Hermione brought her hands out from under the covers, rubbing her eyes gently before looking back at Madam Pomfrey, who eyed her patiently.
"Uh...Ok, I suppose. Although...I'm not really sure what happened." Hermione reflected openly.
"Well, you've definitely tested my abilities these past few days," the healer replied, pursing her lips into a tight smile. "I need you to drink this now that you're awake." She nodded toward the cup in her hand.
Hermione sat up slowly, taking the cup. Her olfactory was flooded with the smell of a coppery, smoky, odour of the rather unsavoury looking liquid as she brought it to her lips. She cringed as it slid down her throat, the bitter taste causing her eyes to clench.
She drank it quickly, desperately seeking the last drop marking the end of the foul tasting substance.
Her skin tingled instantly, a warm surge of vitality coursing through her body. Madam Pomfrey took the cup and sat down, her expression austere and rather disconcerting.
"Hermione, it is a very lucky thing that Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini brought you in when they did. You have suffered a very rare form of magical poisoning."
Well, it didn't take a healer to know that! It explained nothing, but Hermione remained silent. "Professor Snape has been working diligently these past few nights trying to brew this," she held up the empty cup, "so that you are in the best possible state not to suffer permanent damage. He was very worried."
What did she mean by permanent? Wait, did she just say Professor Snape was worried? A questioning gaze followed the healer's form as she stood up and walked to the edge of the bed.
"You realise, Miss Granger that your magical charge was so faint, it had almost extinguished!"
Hermione's eyes had never been so wide. "You mean...I- I almost lost my ability to do magic?" she asked wearily.
Madame Pomfrey nodded gravely. "You're very lucky, dear. Now, I need to keep a close eye on you for the next day or so. You've been in and out of consciousness for a good few days. You're body has been heavily burdened. It knocked you right out."
Hermione gulped at the confirmation of her fears.
"Hermione, despite our ability to diagnose what happened to you; our conjectures about how it came about remain just that. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini offered very little information about the state they found you in. I can't imagine that you are on the best of terms with those young men. They are rather...troublesome," she explained.
Well, that was an understatement!
"I did not press them about you, given the urgency to determine what was wrong with you. Professor Snape did speak with the boys later; I don't know the extent of what was discussed, but it certainly afforded the Professor with some guidance." She paused, looking over at Hermione.
"The Headmaster gave me strict orders not to allow any visitors. But, some have been rather insistent."
"Who exactly visited?" Hermione asked quietly. Madam Pomfrey seemed to be battling with just how much to say at this point in time, her healer instincts perhaps hindering her openness.
"I believe Mr. Malfoy was here a few times," she stated, finally answering Hermione's question. "Allowances were made for the Head Boy," she qualified, but it did little to hide Madam Pomfrey's inquiring look as to why Malfoy would want to visit.
With that she began walking away, leaving Hermione with her thoughts. "Professor Snape will be in later to speak with you," Madam Pomfrey announced before slipping into her office. The shutting doors signalled her isolation.
So, she hadn't dreamt that Malfoy had come to see her. She could vaguely remember their conversation. Her mind formulated a thousand questions and answers, all speculative and frustrating. She leant back against the pillows, sighing.
Professor Snape did indeed come to visit that afternoon.
He was never one for frivolous greetings, but he certainly knew how to make an entrance as he stormed through the double doors with his robes billowing behind him.
Hermione sat up in surprise.
"Verus Civitas." He stood hovering at the end of her bed, his eyes piercing hers. "Have you heard of this term before, Miss Granger?" he drawled.
"It sounds Latin," she offered.
"True. State," he articulated slowly, pausing between each word. "Anyone who might know of it usually has a penchant for the Dark Arts, or is exceptionally well versed on its history. I would not expect you or anyone else in this school, for that matter, to be familiar with it.
"The problem is, that when students naively dabble in unfettered applications of historical potions, the accidental procurement of unwanted results is frustratingly...common," he continued.
She could sense his reprimanding tone.
Hermione nodded slightly. There was no challenge to what the Professor was intimating. She had, after all, blindly drunk a potion handed to her by a Slytherin that happened to have been incorrectly brewed by another.
"Professor, I didn't realise –" Hermione felt compelled to speak in her defence.
"Excuses will not abate the graveness of the situation. Miss Granger, I would expect you of all students to know the dangers of unceremoniously drinking potions that contain blood."
Hermione looked up at the Professor in shock. How much did he know? Her attempt to cover her surprise was futile.
Professor Snape smirked knowingly.
"I assure you, Miss Granger, there is only one potion that induces the fundamental reaction you suffered."
"Blue blood." Hermione said feebly, trying to reaffirm her level-headed intelligence that once existed, mainly for her own benefit.
The Professor paused, appraising the Heard Girl. "Correct," he stated, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I suppose you can tell me who discovered it then?"
"Professor Horace Travis." Hermione wasn't feeling too pleased with herself despite her knowledge bank.
"Why am I not surprised?" The Professor remarked dryly. "Did you also know Professor Travis was reduced to nothing because of its addictive and poisonous nature? Curiosity got the better of him. But, that that is just the deadly surface of the bubbling cauldron. The real trouble started when a secret society got their hands on his diaries in the late 19th century. That was when its true potential was realised."
Hermione recalled reading about the secret society from which Albatros Mabruxy was banished. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the Professor's explanation. But, she remained attentive, like the model student.
"As you know, the obsession with blood purity is rooted in our history. This Society was no different. There is no denying the genius of what was discovered...academically speaking, but ambition is known to drive the Dark Arts. However, that is not what concerns this School. Miss Granger, you need to tell me whether or not this was forced on you."
"I'm not sure I follow, Professor," Hermione said hesitantly, trying to discern its relevance. Perhaps her drowsiness had rendered her slow on the uptake.
"Verus Civitas is the curse on any Muggleborn who consumes blue blood. It negates the magical charge, reducing the wizard, or witch, to the status of a Squib...irreversibly."
It took a moment to sink in, the exact impact of his words. Hermione was conflicted between automatic distress and well learnt logic.
"Bu- but, I've never consumed blue blood in its purest state, Professor." The shakiness in her voice was only the beginning of her state of panic. She clasped her clammy hands together to stop the shaking.
"And you would never want such a curse inflicted on you. However, the beauty of blue blood is in its versatility. That is where the danger lies; in its unfathomable volatility. The slightest variance in its application can produce an indefatigable spectrum of results." He paused and watched her eyes grow wide. "Public record only lists one potion that contains it, and I have no hesitation in assuming that you weren't the instigator in the brewing of the etat d'esprit."
Never underestimate just how much the Professors know. There was no point denying it; the man was a skilled Legilimens. It was enough that he was eyeing her intently, watching her facial reactions, pausing on purpose to build her anxiety.
She couldn't believe what she was about to do. Hermione swallowed, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Professor, before I explain, I want it known that there was no ill intent on anyone's part. It was purely accidental -"
"Miss Granger, this is not a time for exhibiting house spirit," he spat distastefully. "It is not for you to decide the punishment of the perpetrator. There is a reason why an illegal potions register exists, and ignorance is no excuse."
Hermione pursed her lips. He was right, it was not her place to qualify the situation or feel brave about almost losing her ability to do magic. It was enough that she had thought she'd lost her Head Girl status. But, to realise that it was only ancillary to losing her magical charge, was shocking.
"You're right. I drank the potion. It was a stupid dare, fuelled by stupidity. I didn't know what it was until afterward. The...brewer only later realised their error but had no idea of the implications. None of us did." She sighed aloud.
"Are you saying that the brewer, and the person who gave it to you, are two different people?" Professor Snape raised an eyebrow questioningly.
Shit!
Hermione quickly shook her head. "No, I don't know who brewed it," she stated hurriedly. "I was...told. There have been other...uh...reactions that I've had to manage. I brought it upon myself to try and find out what I was dealing with."
He considered her explanation for a moment.
"Yes, well, drinking a potion that contains the blood of you polar opposite will induce various phenomena. It is rumoured that the effect of Veritas Civitas created a permanent connection between the recipient and the pureblood source. The extent of which, one can only guess. But, I imagine it was rather significant for the Society to put a sudden stop to such an...effective method of destroying Muggleborn magic."
If only he knew! And, to think she had suffered all this just by drinking a diluted form of it. Hermione shut her eyes; trying to sort through the overwhelming information she had just been given. There was no way she would have found this out on her own accord.
And it frightened her.
"Uhm, Professor?" She looked up at the potions master. "Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion that she said you brewed. What was it?"
"Once we discovered that you had suffered poisoning, I brewed the strongest healing potion I could concoct, combined with a neutralisation potion used for the most severe blood poisoning. Timing was of the essence. Madam Pomfrey applied historical cocooning methods to conserve your charge and revitalise you. Several cooling charms were also applied, I believe."
"Oh," was all she said. She had a habit of doing that lately.
"My knowledge from here on is limited and purely theoretical. Continued doses should manage your condition but only the most drastic neutralisation can cure you completely. I don't know the extent of relapse, or other side effects. What I do know, is that it will require the cooperation of a certain, soon to be ex-Head Boy."
Silence filled the room as Hermione realised that Professor Snape knew all along of Malfoy's involvement.
And of his punishment.
"I believe Madam Pomfrey will keep you for observation until tomorrow." The stern mask of the potions master returned once more as he turned toward the exit.
Her mind, now quite alert from the shock of information, reeled over the possibilities. She had to ask him one more thing.
"Professor Snape?" He stopped, but did not turn around. "Has a Muggleborn variation of blue blood ever been considered?"
She saw his shoulders tense under his robes, and he turned to face her.
"I can't say any Muggleborn has ever been so concerned with the Dark Arts to test such a theory, Miss Granger. But, it would not reduce a Pureblood to a Squib. The potion thrives on the master-servant connection created in its few ingredients, which simply cannot be achieved in the reverse."
Think, Hermione, think!
"I was more interested in it from a neutralisation perspective. If the victim was to drink a Muggleborn variation, would it serve to negate the effect where it was not yet permanent?" she asked.
Hermione could almost make out the upward tilt of the lip on Professor's otherwise inscrutable face.
"You make an interesting observation, Miss Granger. However, think of a snake bite. The antidote is in the venom of the offending snake. How would you translate that to your Muggleborn blue blood?"
"Oh," she said, again, cringing at her loss of words and feeling of inadequacy. The Professor smirked before exiting the Infirmary and leaving the Head Girl alone with her thoughts.
She had made a fool of herself, thinking a simple reversal of the potion would solve all her troubles. If it were that simple, then the Professor would have given her that to drink rather than a concentrated generic healing potion.
'You make an interesting observation, Miss Granger'. How demoralising!
She groaned, falling back against her pillow, wishing she had her wand with her to test her magic. Instead, as she lay there, her thoughts shifted to Malfoy, the ex-Head Boy. He would definitely hate her now for it.
How ironic.
They wished it upon each other from the start, but now, she was worried about how he would treat her not as the Head Boy.
Hermione sighed, turning to her side.
Malfoy was a snake. Slithering his way into her mind...
'The antidote is in the venom of the offending snake.'
"Oh," she barely said aloud.
'What I do know, is that it will require the cooperation of a certain, soon to be ex-Head Boy.'
That was not a look of ridicule Professor Snape had tried to suppress at her voiced theory.
Had he just given her permission to try?
Malfoy's cooperation was needed, indeed.
A/N: Fun times ahead, indeed! :p