I absolutely adore how amazing supportive you all are. Honestly you have no idea just how much strength you give me constantly. As a writer I can honestly say it's one of the absolute best things about bringing content to you. So as a thank you (and also thanks to the lovely Felfoxling for convincing me not to split this) I can finally post this update for all you lovely individuals. This chapter sits at over 9,000 words which is the absolute longest update I've ever posted on a multichapter before.
I hope you're all doing okay. Enjoy.
All my love Nell xoxo
Edited: 05/01/2025 – 07/01/2025
~ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ~
~ October 31st 1991 ~
~ Hermione's POV~
Life at Hogwarts certainly wasn't what Hermione had expected it to be. She loved the castle, her classes, even many of her professors. She had long found her way around the castle, memorising and mastering the patterns of those pesky moving stairs that had got many of the first years in a bit of a tizzy on the first week and she was able to solve her daily riddles to enter and leave Ravenclaw tower almost subconsciously with zero effort. On a wholly functional, academic point of view Hermione felt as if she were truly flourishing here at Hogwarts and her life had never been more engaging.
She had even, in many ways, grown rather tolerant and excepting of the weekly letters that Mrs Lestrange had taken to sending her. The woman's intentions continued to be a source of confusion and mystery for the Muggle-born, but she had come to learn that the woman was entirely harmless at arm's length and had remained polite and respectful in her correspondence. The pure-blooded witch had written to Hermione to congratulate her on her sorting after her first night. She had made comment about it being a shame that Hermoine hadn't been placed in Slytherin where she would be protected but had ultimately told her that she was proud of her. How the woman had found out where she was sorted so quickly, the brunette didn't know but she hadn't replied. She had decided that despite how harmless the letters appeared she was going to completely ignore the woman in hopes she would simply go away.
Lady Lestrange, had of course not stopped writing to her weekly, sometimes twice weekly and so they had gotten themselves into a bit of a routine. Mrs Lestrange would write about the weather, her daughter, her new favourite recipe and Hermione would read them. She would devour the contents before placing the letters in a little box she kept hidden under her bed. Andromeda never received a reply. But she didn't stop writing the brunette either.
Mrs Lestrange had also taken to gifting Hermione books of varying complexity and topic. Every book was about magic, spell craft or the magical world's politics. She had devoured them of course. Silently appreciating the contents in each, often staying up well into the night to scribble her own notes before sending them back to the witch without comment. She hoped the witch thought Hermione wasn't reading them, simply returning them whenever she had the chance.
Yet it hadn't deterred Lady Lestrange in the slightest. In the grand scheme of things maybe she should try harder to figure out what the woman wanted. Alarm bells continued to ring in her mind at the whole situation, what would an elite member of pureblood society want to gain in trying to befriend a ten year old muggle-born orphan? Hermione refused to believe there was zero motivation behind the women's actions but she simply hadn't found the time to question it further or investigate. In-between studying the gifted books sent by the woman, her own coursework and trying to master her magic, she had very little time to herself.
She had found that life at Hogwarts meant that she was constantly learning and she was never bored. There was always something else for her to investigate or occupy herself with, the castle and all its nooks and crevice's held a wealth of knowledge the likes she had never seen before and Hermione planned to fully enjoy every minute of the opportunity she had been granted. As such she couldn't find all that much to complain about with her new life within the magical world. She felt at home there, a foreign feeling for the orphan and she could feel herself thriving as she immersed herself in the wealth of learning material.
Despite all that was going well for her, Hermoine reluctantly had to admit that she was beginning to feel quite lonely, her familiar Crookshanks was a fabulous comfort to the muggle born girl but her rather large cat loved exploring the castle and Hermione couldn't find it in her to ask him not too. Outside of the scruffy looking ginger cat, she had very little in the way of friends and this had started to cause her some distress. Not that she would ever let that show though. She had only made one friend so far – The girl from the boat that first night. Cho was her one sanctuary in the chaos around her. The other girl seemed to sense Hermione's preference for quiet and would often work soundlessly beside her whenever they had spare time together. A quiet source of strength and companionship forming between them quite naturally. They had spent many an evening in the library studying, or secluded in a corner in the tower, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the other students. The few times they did talk Hermione found herself enjoying the conversation because Cho never pushed. She always let Hermione set the pace, always moving on flawlessly from topics the brunette showed discomfort with. Never seeking more from the reserved brunette than the girl was willing to offer and for that Hermione was truly thankful. Cho had learned quickly that the less pressure Hermione felt, the more she was comfortable with her surroundings.
However, Cho couldn't always hang out with Hermione, though just as studious as her, Cho was quite popular. She was a pureblood, from a well-respected family and had grown up with a lot of their peers. The Chang's were well off and ate with the elite in the wizarding. They were part of the Sacred 28, not that Hermione thought that was impressive, and her family very much followed the societal etiquette required from someone of Pureblood status. Again Hermione didn't understand much about it all but she could see by the way her friend had sheepishly told her of this that it was important to her and the brunette would never stop her friend from doing that which was important to her. Even if It meant that the brunette often found herself alone at meal times and a few evenings during the week.
But therein lay the problem. Slytherin house avoided her, they glared fiercely at her and never spoke to her when they could help it. Every word they did exchange with her was tinged with disgust and yet they had never hexed her or tormented her and the young witch guessed that they were far to scared of angering Lady Lestrange to go against her wishes. They moved around her with hesitance and fear, keeping distance whenever possible. It made her feel like a pariah in the place where she should be focused on learning and thriving. Hufflepuff avoided her too, mainly because they never got any sort of conversation out of her, not that they hadn't tried. Hermione found them overwhelming and often found herself shutting down without intending to whenever a Hufflepuff approached. By nature Hufflepuff were so very respectful of others, and it was because of this no one ever prompted Hermione into any sort of friendship with them. She was quiet and focused so they gave her space but were polite whenever they interacted. Though that interaction only happened on the rare occasion.
The Hufflepuff's polite distance was far better however than the way her own house and Gryffindor had began to approached her.
Her own house seemed to despise her for her cleverness despite their initial warmth towards her when she was first sorted. When reading about the House system she had never imagined that a house that prided itself on knowledge would be so inherently competitive. So much so that despite her best efforts not to come off as overly clever, she had failed. As a result she had quickly learned that her desire to excel had outweighed her desire to fit in. It came with the disappointing, albeit not unexpected acceptance that those around her were truly too arrogant to ever fully accept her. Even when Hermione was actively trying not to show how much of a grasp she had of the syllabus her professors had begun commenting on how studious and clever she was. They praised her openly and it had sown seeds of resentment with her peers. She was top of all their classes, in every subject the school offered and in many circumstances far surpassed her peers with the level of detail and information she provided in her work. Her marks far surpassing all those of pureblood also. It made interactions with her housemates tense, their glares and jealousy making her uncomfortable despite Cho's comfort. Though the brunette couldn't understand why they had chosen to alienate her.
Gryffindor were all-together different. They were too loud and brash for her and apparently she was too different for them. Too bookish and smart. Naturally that meant she had become their main target for teasing and bullying whenever they could. Particularly for Ronald Weasley and his little group of neanderthals. They took every opportunity they got to tease her for whatever reason they deemed appropriate.
Her hair, thick wild brown ringlets…. Was far too wild that they wondered if anyone had ever introduced her to a hair brush.
Her robes, picked by Professor McGonagall and identical to every other girls uniform within the walls of the castle….. were too girly.
Her cleverness, expressed silently and with hesitance to make others feel more comfortable….. was too much.
Her lack of friends. How quiet she was. Her plain looks and buttoned nose.
There truly wasn't an aspect of her that they had left unpicked. Their cruelty targeting every single insecurity she had. At first it hadn't bothered her, she was made of stronger stuff than that. She had survived the muggle orphanages her whole life for Merlin's sake! She wouldn't let little boys bring her down surely, even if they were strategically picking her entire sense of self to pieces.
But then it continued. On and on it went. Each and every day. Eventually it had gotten too much and she had cracked, silent tears dripping down her petite face as she fled for some sense of sanctuary. It was why she had decided to come here, to the girls prefect bathroom near the Dungeons. No one ever came down here during the day so it was the perfect place to escape and hide for a little while when things became too overwhelming for her. Today was one of those days when she had overheard the ginger boy - Ronald Weasley, ring leader - bad mouthing her in front of his little friends. Simply because she could cast a darn spell correctly and he couldn't.
Even now she could hear his darn mocking in her mind, his ghastly boyish imitation of her wrung uncomfortably in her ears.
"It's Wingardium LeviOsa not Wingardium LevioSA" he had sneered, elbow jostling Harry Potter, who sniggered in mirth. Admittedly it wasn't anything all too different from his usual cruelty and despite his whiny voice being the single most annoying sound she had ever heard in her life, she didn't usually let his mocking get to her.
Today however it had been the last straw in her overly emotional state, weeks of torment and feelings of loneliness colliding in a hurricane within her, the uncomfortable mass of emotion making her feel as if she were completely drowning.
She had dashed past them, head down and unwilling to let them see her cry. She had all but ran to her favourite place of seclusion, locking herself in the closest dimly lit stall before she had sobbed. Loudly and for what felt like a long time. Her emotions brimming and boiling out of her. She had spent far too many weeks simply getting on with things and powering through all the torment and teasing. Now that the lid had been lifted on those emotions the brunette found it all bubbling out of her all at once. Ugly and uncontrollable in its ferocity. It had been a long time coming, she supposed. No one could truly endure the amount of ridicule she had without crumbling just a little. Not even her. At least she, unlike many, had the sense to do so in private, away from prying eyes. She wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her stoic demeanour crack any more than it already had. She was stronger than that. She always had been and always would be.
Hermione sighed tiredly as she moved to right herself. It was dinner time and she ought to make an appearance lest anyone get the wrong idea. She would so loathe to let them think that they had successfully succeeded in driving her away from Hogwarts. She brought her shaking thumbs to her face, gently wiping at her tear filled eyes. Drying them as she stood up from her place on the toilet lid (sanitised by herself before she had sat down of course).
Her hands, now thankfully steady, smoothed any wrinkles out of her robes as she made for the door. She felt much calmer now that she had finally let herself fall apart. It was time now to put herself back together and get on with things. Like she had done so many times before, in both the distant and not so distant past. With a flick of her wand and a soft murmur the door unlocked, swinging open slowly to allow her exit of the stall she had chosen as her safe place for a few hours.
She winced sharply as the bright toilet lights flooded her stinging eyes. Her sight struggling to adjust after so much time spent in such a poorly lit space. She blinked several times as her vision returned to her.
When the bathroom finally came in to focus again the brunette found herself inhaling a sharp breath, shocked as she glanced up.
Of all the things she had experienced in life, to end up face to face with the overly large troll in front of her was perhaps the most bizarre of them all. She shivered in disgust when the stench of the creature reached her nose. It stank of sewage, the pungent aroma coiling in her nose and throat, forcing the brunette to clamp a hand over her mouth as she willed herself not to retch. It grunted strangely, an awful sound that sent shivers down her spine. She watched a little horror struck as it seemed to sense her. Its large grime covered body twisting round to face her, its head vaguely humanoid, if human heads had features so pinched together and ill proportioned. Yellow stained teeth and a large mouth that dripped drool, disgustingly mixing with the slime that appeared to be streaming thickly from its deformed nostrils.
It was a horrid looking creature. An abomination really but who was she to judge so harshly?
"Hello there sir." she spoke, raising her voice to be heard over the trolls' continued grunting. She got the sense it was trying to size her up, its head canted slightly to the side at the sound of her voice. Beady little eyes focused intently on her. It seemed almost curious to her and Hermione found herself mirroring its movement, it's strange actions reminding her of a curious puppy. All be it a horribly unkempt one. Hermione tilted her head to the side as if she too was trying to work out the trolls intentions. She had bit back her fear the second it had turned to her. She remembered reading somewhere that creatures often reacted to emotion: fear, anger, maliciousness often provoking violence. She opted to remain calm, if she could convince it she meant no harm and was unafraid maybe it wouldn't try to pulverise her with that massive dirty wooden club it grasped tightly in its right hand?
As if by instinct, Hermoine felt her heart slow, her palms, initially shaking upon sight of the overly large creature, stilled and she found herself taking a centring breath in.
"I mean you no harm Mr Troll. I was just in the bathroom. I was about to leave to have some dinner, I didn't mean to disturb you." she explained, gently but firmly when she was ready to speak. She would be lying if she said she wasn't internally feeling a little foolish at standing there trying to hold a conversation with a creature that didn't appear to have the ability to speak her language let alone understand her. Yet she could try, couldn't she? She doubted many had. Especially seeing as her initial reaction had been fear and the urge to reach for her wand to hex the intimidating thing. Hermione knew she was a little bit of a bleeding heart, she had never had it in her to harm anything around her and this troll would be no different. She wouldn't harm it if she could get away with it but she would certainly defend herself if she needed to.
When the troll merely looked at her in confusion Hermione internally rejoiced a little. Her logical mind forming the assumption that maybe just maybe the troll could understand her after all. She sat down slowly, crossing her legs in a rather unladylike fashion. Matron be damned, life or death situations were no time to be worrying over proper seating etiquette among ladies. She doubted the troll really cared if it could see a flash of her bare leg. The brunette stifled the urge to flinch backwards and the squeak of surprise that tried to slither up her throat. Her honey brown eyes glued to the creature's movement as it began to lower itself down to the ground. Almost imitating her in the way it sat down on the cold tiles below them.
Once it was settled, its club laid to rest beside its right knee, Hermione smiled knowingly. Her eyes met the creatures yet again, a spark of mirth echoed back at her in the Trolls murky green eyes.
"You can understand me." She stated, raising an eyebrow in silent challenge. The troll seemed to mull her words over in its mind. Dense eyebrows furrowed in thought, large hands coming to rest on the trolls knees.
"I can." It finally stated in perfect English. Hermione felt both of her eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline in surprise. Not expecting the deep gravely English tone to come from such a large seemingly unintelligent being.
"You can." She repeated instead. Her head nodding in acknowledgement, wiping the surprise from her face as she settled into a more neutral façade. "Hermione Jean Granger." She offered after a beat. Not wanting the silence to linger just in case the creature decided to clam up and return to its fear inducing grunts.
"Garth." The creature replied, a slightly creepy looking smile adorning his face. "You are a strange witch, your kind don't ever engage with us unless they are trying to harm us." Garth observed matter of factly, his eyes continuing to study her.
Hermione rolled her own eyes. Unsurprised at the statement.
She had gathered very quickly that wizarding kind, human kind in general if she were truly honest, seemed to have somewhat of a superiority complex. All but refusing to consider that creatures held the potential to be just as, if not more than, capable of engaging on equal ground.
"I'd apologise but I cannot be the one to do so for it is not my mistake rendering my attempt to do so futile and meaningless. I can say however I am sorry that has been your experience. Us humans can be a little oblivious at times to what is so obviously in front of our very noses." The brunette offered in reply to his obvious curiosity.
"That I know, but the fault as you say is not yours as you seat yourself to talk rather than throw your magic at me." Garth responded, his voice sounding a little confused still over her actions.
"I will not lie, my first reaction was fear and the urge to lash out. Years of self-control however has taught me that thinking outside of the box is often better than trying to remain within it. I do wonder however how it was you came to traverse the halls of a protected magical establishment?" She canted her head, praying that he would enlighten her. Curiosity rearing its head within her as she sat there calmly in front of the large creature.
"I am thankful you have a mind that allows such radical thinking. As for how I got here, I am unsure. The last thing I remember is a man in black robes storming towards me and then…." He paused as if thinking hard about his next words. Hermione thought she saw a brief flicker of irritation cross his marred face before it was gone and he was shrugging. "…and then, I woke up within these strange walls and have been looking for a way out ever since. Though if I recall the man ha-" his sentence cut off abruptly.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" The spell rang out in a fearful enraged voice and Hermione had no time to react as Garth's club rose quickly from its place on the floor, abruptly falling when the spell was cut. The sturdy wooden weapon connected with the troll's skull loudly. The sound reverberating all around the bathroom with a sudden thunk, bouncing off and shattering through two of the sinks behind Garth. She yelped in alarm, jumping up and away as Garth's large form toppled forward towards her.
His full weight hitting the floor in a way that the brunette knew would be painful to him. His head and upper torso ripping through the flimsy wooden stall doors she had sat in front of seconds before hand. The wood flattened under the troll's weight. The brown eyed girl cursed silently, furious eyes turning up to lock eyes with her potential new friends' attackers. She growled quietly when she met the piercing green eyes of Harry Potter, flicking from his to lock with furious blue eyes. Ronald Weasley! her mind supplied in annoyance. Of course the ginger headed brat had to be the one to ruin something for her.
"Oh thank merlin Hermione! We thought for sure the troll was going to eat you." Harry almost seemed genuinely concerned, his eyes glinting with an emotion she couldn't quite understand as Ron Weasley nodded beside him.
"I was fine, I had the situation perfectly under control thank you very much!" She replied indignantly, much more than a little offended at their apparent doubt in her own ability to protect herself. Though she supposed that maybe they had a right to be concerned? What other ten year old could face a mountain troll and say she lived to have a conversation with the creature? It was extremely bizarre, wholly unlikely and the more she thought about it the more she realised the truth would not be believed. "Oh please Hermione, it would have squashed you alive and you know it. We saved your life, the very least you could do is show a little gratitude." The ginger headed boy spat, glaring at her in challenge. His face turning a deep shade of red, Hermione would say he was attempting to camouflage himself to match the Gryffindor colours but she had her suspicions that the two lion cubs in front of her wouldn't be as appreciative of her humour as she herself was.
She narrowed her eyes in defiance, his tone irritating her further. Though any retort she could think of was cut short with the arrival of professors McGonagall, Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell. The three entered the bathroom with wands drawn. Obviously prepared for an altercation with the troll. The troll that Hermione was sure was now knocked out cold, lying amongst the destruction of what was once a perfectly working bathroom.
An expression of horror and confusion on all three of the professor's faces had Hermione yet again rolling her eyes internally. An action she seemed to be doing ever increasingly at this school. Especially surrounded by the ridiculousness of her fellow students.
"Wha- what?-"
"How on earth-"
"Explain yourselves this instant!" All three spoke at once, Professor McGonagall's stern tone drowning out the other two as she stepped forward, further into the utter pandemonium around them. Worried and angry eyes scanning all three students in front of her and Hermione could see that the stern elderly woman was battling her need to chastise them with her need to make sure they were alright.
"Well you see professor, Harry and I came looking for Hermione when we realised she had foolishly gone off to try and deal with this troll on her own. We managed to knock it out just in time to stop it flattening her." Ron lied with such an innocently concerned tone that Hermione would have believed him if she had not been there to witness what had actually occurred. It shouldn't surprise her that someone who had grown up with as many older siblings as he had would know how to lie and act the innocent party so effectively. She seethed quietly as the older witch nodded her head in acceptance, apparently believing the buffoon of a boy easily, the Professor taking his false words at face value as she turned a disappointed expression towards Hermione.
"Is this the truth Miss Granger?" It was Professor Snape who spoke up, asking the question she knew McGonagall had wanted too. She was happy to hear the scepticism in the potions professor's tone, glad that at least someone on the school's faculty could sense the deception around them.
Hermione glanced up, keen eyes spotting the smug look on Ron's face and the almost blank one on Harry's. She would quite like to wipe those smug smiles off of their faces. She looked up at professor Snape, allowing her anger to seep through into her expression a little, subtly letting him see she was displeased before she constructed her face back into her routine neutral expression. She nodded minutely, blank eyes meeting Professor McGonagall's searching gaze with her own defiant brown.
"It's true." She said simply, her voice completely void of all emotion. She knew a losing battle when she saw one. There was very little point to her arguing with the dunder head and his minion in front of their professors. McGonagall would believe Ron and Harry simply because they were in her House. Quirrell had proven time and time again that he was too much of a pushover to offer much of anything and Professor Snape was seen as a bit of a villain amongst those in the castle. Rumours were rife amongst the students regarding his participation in the last blood war, even now nine years later. He was cold and indifferent to everyone around him regardless of who they were. He also didn't have many friends and she knew he would not stick his neck out to defend her, especially with little to no proof of what had actually occurred in the now ruined bathroom.
Best she suck it up and remains quiet lest she incur more punishment than what she knew she was about to receive.
"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley. Although rather foolish to come yourselves I commend you for acting so quickly, it would be a tragedy to us all here at Hogwarts if you had not got here in time. Ten points each to Gryffindor for showing bravery in the face of a classmate's foolishness." The older witch spoke warmly, a small proud smile pulling up the corners of her lips. "As for you Miss Granger, minus fifty points to Ravenclaw for utter recklessness and disregard for your own and others safety." Professor McGonagall continued, her tone dripping with disappointment. Her previous warmth was gone, replaced by stern features and pursed lips as she turned to leave the room, pausing in the doorway to glance back at her.
"And a month's detention every evening with me." She stated as she departed, without a backwards glance.
Hermione didn't get a chance to respond, the bitter taste of copper filling he mouth as she bit her tongue to stop the urge to retort angrily at the dismissive woman. It would be pointless. Hermione knew that arguing with Professor McGonagall had never got anyone, anywhere. The older witch was as stubborn as they came, especially when it came to defending her cubs. Despite the fact Hermione secretly craved to be defended by someone in such a way, she really had little patience to engage. Her heart hammering wildly in response to the utter disappointment Professor McGonagall had addressed her with. It made her feel insignificant. Unworthy of the warmth the older woman had given so freely to the boys, despite her lack of wrongdoing. Her mind raced, aching for an ounce of comfort and warmth in ways she knew she would never receive. It was moments like this one that truly reminded her that she was little more than an orphan. Cast aside by her parents when she was a mere baby and abandoned repeatedly ever since.
She clenched her fists against the pain of such thoughts, she used every ounce of strength she could to lock her emotions down tightly. It wouldn't do for her to crumble again so soon after she had just barely collected herself. She forced her chin up indignantly, refusing to show just how annoyed and hurt she was as Harry and Ron shot smug looks towards her and whispered their thanks as they passed. Thanks for what she did not know. Nor did she care, the fiery defiance she had felt at the beginning of this whole ordeal abandoning her in the face of harsh reality.
A warm hand rested on her shoulder briefly, startling her and forcing the brunette to look up. Professor Snape looked down at her with a look akin to approval and sympathy, as he awkwardly patted the shoulder he had placed his hand upon.
"Eighty points to Ravenclaw for having the intelligence to know when to fight and when to back down. Not many adults could hold their tongue when faced with such insufferable fools." The dark man murmured. An expression of sympathy flashing across his narrow features before he abruptly turned away. His robes billowed out behind him as he too left the bathroom, levitating the unconscious troll behind him with a silent flick of his wand.
Now alone Hermione felt exhaustion settle in her weary bones. It had been an ever so long day and she couldn't wait to bury herself under her blankets back in her dorm room. Far from the reality she found herself in. Things would feel better once she had slept.
Or at least she hoped to Morgana that they would.
~ June 4th & 5th 1991 ~
~ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, hospital Wing ~
~ Hermione's POV ~
Hermione groaned audibly as she woke, pain flaring to life all over her body. The little hairs on her arms standing on end in the chill that surrounded her. She was cold. Her mind felt sluggish and foggy, as if something was wrong but she couldn't think clearly to work it out. Though a strange feeling of forced calm lingered in her stomach, foreign and uncomfortable and the brunette was certain she shouldn't be calm right now. But she really couldn't think, her body shivering and recoiling. Why was she so cold? Her eyes blinked bleakley before clenching tight against the first ray of light that seeped through her eyelids, even as her confusion urged her to make sense of her surroundings. The bright intensity of those lights however felt as if it were burning holes in her retinas, painfully. It made her head throb and she could feel the sharp ache of what she assumed to be fresh bruises lining the right side of her body. Her injuries were pulsing in time with the throbbing in her skull. A strange tingling sensation at the top of her forehead let her know she had also cut her head in some way. Though she supposed the tingling would merely be a lingering sensation from whatever healing spell or salve had been used upon her.
After a few seconds of wincing as she recovered her sensitive eyes she slowly peeled her eyes open. Much slower this time as Hermione let herself adjust to the bright clinical lights that shone overhead illuminating the room around her in artificial light. The brunette sighed, her eyes roaming the room in which she was currently residing, internally scoffing at just how similarly set up the muggle and magical hospitals were. Purebloods would surely hate to realise it, but they modelled their places of healing in a similar fashion to those they considered filth. Both wizard and muggle using cream and white colour schemes with some blues and yellow to 'lighten' the place up. It was rather comical or it would have been if she had the energy to laugh at her own observations.
As it was every muscle within her protested and she moved her head gingerly, her bleary eyes looking to her left and out across the empty expanse of the room. Several beds lined each side. A walkway lay down the centre of the hospital ward with plenty space between each bed for the schools healer to manoeuvre around and still allow each bed occupant their privacy. The curtains that hung around each bed in place to offer such a thing when required were an off white colour and Hermione wondered if they were cleaned with magic or the muggle way? What was the difference between muggle washing machines and a scourgify spell in terms of the finished cleanliness and hygiene?
The youngster paused, not willing to let her mind, dulled as it was, to wonder too far off topic. She could see that the room was nearly empty. With only two other bodies resting in beds a little ways away from her. She could make out a mop of messy black curls on the second closest bed to her, the one between them thankfully empty, peeking from within the blankets that draped over the prone form. On the bed at the other side of the dark hair lay the unmistakable face of Ronald Weasley. If Ron was here then that meant Harry was the dark curls, she rightly guessed. She wasn't entirely sure that it was a relief to see them both, she supposed it was good that they had made it out of the chamber alive. But whether or not they were successful was another thing altogether and the circumstances in which they had ended up here in the first place was entirely their fault. Despite them already being pretty low on her tolerance list, their antics had pushed them even lower. Such was the ire she felt at them at that moment.
Hermione hissed in pain as she tried to sit up, weak arms trying to find purchase on the hospital blankets as she tried to push herself into a seated position, desperate to get out of the hospital ward and back to her own dorm. She was already tired of the sterile scent that lingered around her and the obnoxiously clinical white walls that stared from there pews around her. From the time she was three years old and had fallen down the orphanage steps, breaking her wrist she had despised hospitals. The medical ward here at Hogwarts was not a place she found herself liking much more either and she was really craving the comfort of her own bed. The action of trying to force her beaten body upright however, was enough to send her bleary vision tunnelling and her head spinning.
Darkness consuming her once more, her body, bruised and battered as it was, falling limp upon the bed once more.
The second time Hermione woke up her mind crept to consciousness slowly. Far more alert than it had been mere hours previously. The brunette's body still ached terribly but her head was no longer throbbing and her forehead had stopped tingling thankfully, a soft ache now the only reminder that her head had ever been injured.
Idly she wondered just how long she had been out for. It felt much later, or earlier than it had been when she had woken the first time. Not that it mattered all that much, as soon as she could get her body to cooperate with her she would be out of this Merlin awful place.
Before opening her eyes, the muggle-born paused. Her mind registering the presence of another person, their magical signature lingering close by to where she lay. She kept her breathing even, not wanting to give away her state of consciousness until she figured out who was by her bedside. It would be a shame for her to give herself away and be forced to engage in conversation with anyone she would rather not see. Which in reality was near enough every person she had ever known except maybe Cho. No matter how hard she had tried to convince herself over the past few months that people were tolerable, she couldn't.
They weren't and the brunette would really rather not have to interact with anyone if she did not need to.
The words of her biological parents' letter was still very much lodged in her mind. All but ensuring she had failed in her endeavour to be more people friendly. If her parents couldn't stick around, if they did not want her, what was stopping anyone else she got attached to doing the same? It was a terrifying thought and it caused the young witch to guard herself heavily. Now was no different.
The only people she had managed to let into her life to some degree was Cho and Professor McGonagall. The elder woman, who despite showing nothing but disappointment all those months ago with the troll incident, had proven herself to be the sort of individual Hermione could really lean on. After making it seem like she was in trouble, she had been terrified to face her first detention with the venerable Scot. Her fingers picking at the skin around her nails and nervously chewing at the inside of her lips in a way she had not done since matron had beat the habit out of her at age eight. Her heart raced as she neared the office and she could feel the sheer dread that raced through her veins. By the time she had made it up to McGonagall's, hands shaking in terror she had all but planned her own funeral at the hands of Matron when the elderly woman inevitably found out she had gotten herself into such trouble. Professor McGonagall had taken one look at her pale, clammy features and strode across the room wordlessly. Strong thin arms wrapping her up in a hug, lifting a rigid Hermione, who had frozen at the completely unfamiliar feeling of being held, off her feet and moving her towards the fireplace where the older witch had seated them. Hermione tucked under her arm.
It made her fight the urge to smile, even now, at the memory of that night. Her fear completely abated when it had been explained to her that the older woman knew exactly what had happened that night and knew Hermione had not in fact gone off looking for the troll in a foolish attempt at dealing with the large creature. But being the rather clever and forward thinking witch that she was, McGonagall had seen scope to capitalise on the situation, having watched Hermione thrive in classes yet struggle to fit in amongst her peers. So had sparked many 'tutoring' lessons, where upon arrival every night after dinner her Professor helped her practice utilising, exercising and controlling her magical core. All the while discussing classes and classmates.
It strangely reminded Hermione of one of those afternoon soaps Matron watched upon occasion on the television, where the older ladies sat around the table gossiping about the local people, sipping tea and enjoying a few biscuits.
Or tea and Ginger Newts in Hermione and McGonagall's case.
Cho had also been a steadfast presence. She was warm and kind. Patient always with Hermione and the brunette knew there was not a thing in this world that would ever take the place of her first proper friend. They still spent any free time together. They ate together every day now, making it a point when the coursework started piling up, making their usual evening hangouts more like a study group than anything. It had become their own little tradition now. Whenever they sat to eat Cho would ask Hermione about her day. The brunette would divulge whatever she was willing to and Cho would listen. Once the brunette was finished and it was clear she wasn't about to continue Cho would not push but simply launch into whatever it was she wanted to talk about. From the latest school rumour to grace the halls, to funny moments from their day and it never failed to make Hermione feel better. No matter the kind of day she had experienced.
To many she was sure their friendship was strange, but to her it wasn't. It was comfortable and Cho was the only one who had ever come close to experiencing the real unguarded girl beneath the brunettes hardened exterior. She got the sense that maybe Cho had figured out way more about Hermione's home life than she had meant to let on. If she had however, the raven haired girl had never let on. A kindness Hermione was grateful for.
At Christmas Cho had gone home, though not without hugging her tightly and promising to write every day. She had kept that promise, even spoiling Hermione on Christmas day with a small muggle Christmas cake and a few new books to add to her ever growing collection of coveted works. The books were originals, gifted to the brunette from the Chang's family library and Hermione knew she would cherish them for the rest of her life.
McGonagall had even come up to the empty common room and spent a few hours with her, both witches reading by the warm fire. It had been the best Christmas she had experienced.
Boxing day however was when that happy little bubble she had managed to fall into was broken.
Breakfast had seen her seated alone at the far end of the Ravenclaw table. Oblivious to the two boys that approached her with near identical looks of confusion and frustration on their faces. Without meaning to Hermione grimaced visibly at the memory of all that had happened after that fateful meeting. The action alerting the unknown person by her bedside to the fact that the brunette was now awake.
"Glad you could join me back in the land of the living Miss Granger." A voice dripping in amusement spoke up, though quiet it wrung loud in the brunettes ears. So loudly in fact she would almost swear that the woman had shouted them directly into her eardrum. She cursed silently under her breath, chastising herself for being so reckless with her expressions.
'What happened to sussing out who it was first, you idiot?' She thought snidely to herself. This was exactly the reason she had planned on doing so. Now she was going to be forced into interacting with her own personal stalker. A sound that was neither a sigh nor a groan but something in between slipped from her chapped lips as she turned towards the voice. Weary brown eyes opening to meet the dark brown of the one and only Lady Andromeda Lestrange.
"If I were not who I am then your reaction to my presence would be more than a little insulting to me little one. Do you intentionally do all you can to displease me?" Lestrange queried. Her tone was soft and warm, maybe even a little humorous but Hermione could sense the undercurrent of disapproval and irritation behind the woman's words.
"Why are you here? Shouldn't the hundreds of unanswered letters and returned books have told you well enough by now that I am not interested in whatever sordid plan you have concocted for me Lady Lestrange?" She asked bluntly, her current state of confusion, pain and exhaustion addling her ingrained need to be polite to her elders. Matron would have smacked her sore for such a thing.
Andromeda simply tsk'd, a displeased sound that clattered off of perfectly white teeth. The woman leaned forward and Hermione watched her with trepidation. Her brash words suddenly came back to her, making her feel more weary than before at the woman's proximity. The brunette flinched when a well-manicured hand came up to grip her chin between Andromeda's thumb and forefinger, a firm grip forcing her to look the witch in the eyes. Her own filled with fear and uncertainty while she couldn't quite decipher the look in Mrs Lestrange's own.
Instead of the belittling, harsh words of reprimand she had expected, the muggle-born was startled when the woman in front of her stood from her chair, maintaining her grip on Hermione's chin as she came to rest on the side of the medical bed the younger witch lay upon. Her face was neutral, entirely devoid of emotion and the brunette could only wish to imitate the same level of indifference and control.
"Oh little one!" The witch above her finally sighed out, appearing rather deflated all of a sudden. As if she were slipping off a mask. "I understand your uncertainty. I do not take your insolence personally, nor do I blame you for protecting your heart so fiercely." The words were spoken with an earnestness that Hermione had not encountered much in her life, it spoke of the older witch's knowledge stemming from personal experience. The little witch couldn't help but make a sad sound at the back of her throat in reaction to Andromeda's words. The woman's hand on her chin moved in response, cupping her cheek soothingly in a gentle caress.
Hermione wanted to move away! She knew she should move away! Away from this woman who was invading her space with a tenderness that was foreign and comforting and strange all at once. But Merlin knew she couldn't. The traitorous little girl inside of her that she had always kept hidden craved it, needed it, longed for it and would not allow her to do as she should do. Her body was entirely uncooperative as her mind raged with itself.
She huffed a breath in frustration and fear, cursing herself for showing such a sign of weakness. Even as she remained rigid. Not moving away nor pressing closer to the warm hand still cupped around her cheek. She blinked furiously up at Andromeda, moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes in another display of her body's betrayal.
"Oh darling girl!" The woman whispered, running her thumbs under Hermione's eyes, catching the moisture there before it had a chance to fall. Andromeda could feel how warm the girl had gotten, the rapid pace of the girl's heart beating wildly and the girl's breathing was strained. Her body radiating distress in waves. The older witch could even feel the anguish in the girl's magic as it moved restlessly around them. It felt uncertain and wary. As if it could not quite decide how best to protect its wielder.
No doubt as confused as the girl that possessed it.
"I shall not ever harm you Hermione. I only wish to help, there is no ulterior motive nor nefarious plan. One so young should not know the heartache you carry like a shield child." Hermione stared, wide eyed and disbelieving. Her mind racing to process the woman's seemingly honest words. She could sense no deception. Genuine intent and warmth radiating off of every word the older woman spoke. But it couldn't be true. No one had ever cared for her without wanting something in return before. No one, not even McGonagall had ever looked at her the way Andromeda was. As if she were loved, cherished in the ways she had always craved.
But it was a lie!
This woman was lying. What could she possibly want otherwise with a mud-blood, except to play some fort of cruel trick. She would no doubt lure Hermione into her clutches. Use her and her magic for something. She would throw her away when she was done. Brush her off when she got tired of her. Because Hermoine knew she would.
Everyone got tired of her. Andromeda Lestrange would be no different.
"Why?" She finally managed to whisper, her voice strained and uncertain, clouded with disbelief. Her fists had clenched in the starch sheets around her. Her bottom lip trembling softly, unused to feeling so much. She could feel her heart beating in her limbs. The erratic pulsing sensation only adding to the internal panic she felt.
"I do not know the truth of why little one. But from the moment I saw you in the bookstore I knew I could not do nothing. I felt.." the older witch took a breath, a thoughtful look crossing elegant features. Hermione felt like the woman was pondering her words, seemingly unsure of how to say something or unsure as to how Hermione would take whatever she felt she needed to say. As if to prove her point, Andromeda dropped her hands from the brunettes face to take Hermione's shaking hands into her own larger ones. Her warm strong hands prying Hermione's grip off of the starch sheets tucked around her. The hands that gripped her own engulfed hers and Hermione wished she had the strength to push her away. The longer she was offered such comfort the louder that little voice in her mind got.
Aching.
Craving.
Calling out for more.
It was a dangerous voice. One that could only lead to her own heartbreak. Her own hurt and she did not have it in her to feel that overwhelming pain of abandonment once more. It would destroy her. Her whole life had been filled with it. She had accepted that. Dealt with that. She didn't want to open herself to the possibility of being hurt again.
She liked her solace. It was safe. It was known.
This? This comfort? This seemingly genuine care? Was not safe and every sane part of her rebelled at the notion of being vulnerable to anyone once more. Let alone a pure-blooded woman who was affiliated with the very people that would rejoice in her suffering.
"I still feel drawn to you darling. I do not understand it, I cannot find any explanation for the way I feel about you. As if you are one of my own children. But that is the reality and I cannot ignore it, even if I wanted to. I cannot watch you suffer so much." The older witches voice was firm, resolute as she spoke. Her hands squeezing Hermione's as if pleading that the girl accepted her, accepted the comfort and help being offered. Hermione closed her eyes. Her breathing almost came to a stop as she ground her teeth against the urge to cry. Those words re-breaking parts of her that she had long since patched back together. Roughened and weak as that reparation had been.
Or at least she had thought she had repaired herself, way back when her muggle adopters had abandoned her back at the orphanage. Now though, she doubted just how well she had in fact healed herself, lying here in a hospital bed facing this discussion. Her heart shattered at the mere notion someone would care for her, even if that someone did not understand themselves why they wished to do so.
She felt helpless, tears slipping past her tightly shut eyelids. Her body trembled. Her mind screaming in terror.
Unable to process a single thing that was happening around her, the muggle-born clutched onto Andromeda when the older woman brought her up and into a secure embrace. Her head was tucked close into a soothingly scented neck as she was shifted and in that moment she crumbled.
Shen would later claim a momentary lapse in judgement brought on from her injuries and the potions she had been plied with, however for now her heart shattered over and over again as her sobs escalated.
Wordlessly Andromeda settled them down on the bed, holding the tiny frame of the eleven year old muggle-born girl to her chest as the girl continued to cry. Her sobs were painful to hear for the mother within the hardened pure-blood. Her instincts urged her to protect and soothe in the way only her own daughter had ever brought to light.
"That's it, I've got you darling. I've got you." She cooed gently. Hands rubbing soft circles on the girl's back and through her curls as she rocked them gently side to side. They lay there. Hermione completely oblivious to the pain radiating from the woman that held her as Andromeda bore silent witness to the absolute devastation held tightly within the youngster. All the while the older woman wondered how anyone could have ever willingly given this child up. For Andromeda would never have.
Once she was calmer, her sobs tapering off into quiet sniffles and hiccups. Hermione took note of the position she was in. The unfamiliar feeling of safety that had settled within her bones and the reassuring heartbeat that she could hear from the woman who held her. Its beating soft and predictable in her ears. She didn't speak, didn't move. Merely focused her exhausted mind on the steady rise and fall of Mrs Lestrange's chest beneath her head. Silently bringing her own breathing to match, calming her more with every passing second.
"Do you want to tell me how you ended up in the infirmary in the first place, little one?" The older brunette asked, breaking the quiet that had enveloped them. Though she still kept up the soothing motions of her hands, unwilling to disrupt the calm she had seemingly lulled the muggle-born into, even as the girl flinched at her voice.
Andromeda could feel Hermione sigh above her. Small hands fisting in her robe lapels.
"I suppose." she whispered, moving to pull away. Not fighting in the slightest when the older witches arms tightened around her. A silent command to stay where she was. Hermione obliged, finding that she did enjoy being held in such a way no matter how much her mind was still convinced this was entirely too dangerous.
"We foiled Voldemort's plans to return tonight." She continued wearily, not wanting to upset the woman who had been so kind to her by being too enthusiastic about foiling the dark man that Andromeda's family apparently worshipped, plans. Visibly shivering in disgust at the mention of his name but resolutely refusing to let her fear consume her.
Fear of a name, increases fear of the thing itself after all and Hermione wouldn't let anyone have that power in her life. Dark Lord or not.
"You may need to be a little more specific, Hermione. Who is this we you speak of? How did you learn of such plans?" The older brunette questioned and if Hermione had looked up she would have seen how the woman fought not to show how angry she was growing. Infuriated at Albus Dumbledore's apparent lack of surveillance within the castle and his inherent lack of action in stopping whatever it was that Hermione and the two Gryffindor's had got themselves caught up in.
"Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and myself. They approached me the day after Christmas…" she began, forgetting her hesitance as she began to recount her story. Her weary mind focusing on the facts of what had happened to give her hear some respite from the emotion she was experiencing. She told Andromeda about the heated conversation the boys had with her over breakfast. Both boys demanded her help in figuring out what was going on with a "suspicious Snape, a three headed dog and a stone made by a man named Nicholas." It had been all they could tell her. Neither offering much more of anything in terms of help and information, for lack of know how or lack of information Hermione hadn't known at the time. But the more she learned about the two, the more she learned just how lazy they appeared to be, which shouldn't have been a surprise to the youngster. If anyone was going to demand her help and not do any of the work it would be Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.
So had started Hermione's deep dive into just what they could possibly be talking about. It took her a few weeks of researching to find the information they needed on Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone, a stone that according to the literature granted the owner of the stone some form of immortality. It took longer to work out that the stone was here at the castle, guarded by a three headed dog named Fluffy. That information had come from Hagrid the groundskeeper. A man that Harry had apparently befriended but Hermione could see that Harry was merely keeping Hagrid close for information. She could tell by the way he spoke to the half giant, the way Ron snickered at him when he wasn't looking and the way both boys cringed at the half giants proximity. It set Hermione's instincts on fire, every part of her demanding that she punish the pair for their lack of respect of the man. Though she knew there was no point Hagrid was happy, thinking he had some friends and to speak up would only cause more issues for her and the real issue was in fact Fluffy and the mystery that surrounded the philosophers stone. Hermione had laughed a little too hard at learning about the three headed dogs and what it guarded, for multiple reasons.
Firstly, who named a dog with three heads that is about as big as an entire room and as aggressive as a racoon, Fluffy?
Secondly, who would bring such an invaluable stone to a school full of children?
And thirdly, who would then be so careless as to allow multiple people to learn its location?
It was completely bizarre.
More than bizarre really, it was about as ludicrous as anyone believing she had held an actual conversation with a mountain troll all those months ago. A topic she was still sore about, both boys had deprived her of the chance to gain more knowledge. Knowledge that was possibly unavailable to anyone else and they hadn't even apologised!
Then had come her and Harry running into the deformed waif-like manifestation of the very man rumoured to have been defeated by a two year old in the Forbidden forest while the three of them plus Draco Malfoy served detention with Hagrid. Voldemort's form had been bent over a severely wounded unicorn, clearly sustaining his energy to cling to life by feasting on the blood of the sacred animal. That had been terrifying, but no less terrifying than facing her Matron on a bad day and so Hermione had done the only thing she could think of, she had flung a stunner at the form, while shouting for help. The form had startled and quickly fled when one of the centaurs had shown up. The centaur – Firenze, had thanked Hermione's defence of the animal, quietly informing her that the centaur tribe would forever be in her and her clans debt, not that she told Andromeda that bit, somehow knowing that the words Firenze had spoken were only for her ears. Though the sentence had confused Hermione greatly yet she had no time to linger on his parting words as Hagrid, Draco and Harry had arrived with Fang, Hagrid's Dog.
The half giant had called a halt to their detention and ushered all of them back to the castle and the entire incident was never spoken of again. The brunette felt as if the professors around them were in denial, unwilling to admit that anything had happened and she had a feeling to fuss would only alienate her further.
The final piece of the puzzle to help her work it all out came two days prior to now, when Harry's scar had started to burn viciously. He had told her over the past few months about what he remembered of the night his parents had died and how all that was left was the scar when all was said and done. Hermione secretly thought his survival had something to do with one, if not both, of his parents as opposed to the common belief that it was Harry himself that had defeated the man.
Not that she would voice that opinion of course.
Especially not when, despite all of her help, she wasn't exactly friends with the pair. She found them overbearing. Far too brash and single minded for her. Not to mention entirely selfish and self-centred. The brunette simply tolerated them for necessities sake and she was sure they felt the same about her. Ron especially had let slip more than once that he found her unbearable. Not that she cared what he thought.
Then came the final dash to the third floor, down into the hidden floor after who they had assumed was Professor Snape. Hermione was not entirely convinced it was him that was working with Voldemort. The man though harsh and unkind had done nothing to warrant such an accusation but with no alternative individual to blame she had not been successful in pointing Harry and Ron's hatred elsewhere.
When they entered the forbidden room they found the large three headed animal asleep, a harp playing quietly in the background. Hermione had without thinking cast a spell on the harp to keep it playing, her gut telling her that the harp was the reason the large creature was sleeping so peacefully. When they reached the first obstacle - landing in Devil's Snare when they had launched themselves through the trapdoor - The brunette had to roll her eyes and hope that their esteemed headmaster had come up with something far more difficult to thwart than a plant that hated sunlight.
A quickly cast 'Lumos Maxima' had the plant release them all from its thorns, Tendrils releasing them hurriedly as they fled the sunlight, causing them to fall to the ground below. Even finding the correct flying key to open the rather old looking door at the end of the room was far too easy to get past.
She simply froze the room.
Which allowed them to spot the correct key and she had summoned it directly into her hand. The three youngsters had crossed the room unharmed and unlocked the door quickly and again the brunette had found herself cringing at how simple the headmaster's 'deterrents' were.
The large game of Wizarding Chess was a little more difficult to get past, she would admit. She was forced to play the wretched game with both boys. Hermione had decided to simply stand and follow along with Ron's strategy because although she understood the game and its rules she had little interest in the barbaric act of chess pieces smashing each other and therefore had never become adept at strategy. Unlike Ron who seemingly played the game religiously, recalling the vigour in which he had launched himself into playing. When she realised that Ron was about to sacrifice her for the sake of them getting through she had quickly interfered. The muggle-born had called upon one of the more complex spells she had learned from the books gifted to her by the very witch she was now explaining this all too.
It was rather annoying in how obvious her solution had been. She had cursed then and she cursed now, remembering that she could have easily blown up the chess pieces at the very start. But no matter how irritating they got through it in the end. All three scraped and bruised from the granite shrapnel she had sent flying around the room but very much alive.
The hardest part of the whole thing came in the form of a series of potions and a riddle that had to be solved in order to allow them to pass through the black flames that had surrounded them the moment they had entered the room the potions were located in. It had taken a bit of work on her part because Merlin and Morgana both knew that there was absolutely no chance of her ever entrusting her life to the two dunderheads with her. Not in this world or the next. When she had finally figured out what potion they needed she had carefully split the potion between the three of them. Once they had drunk the potion it allowed them to pass through and enter a large room. It looked like it had been a ball room once upon a time. Large stone archways and stone steps led down into the main part of the room which consisted of a large open space. The walls had faded from the once magnolia colour and there were several holes and crumbling bits of stone in the infrastructure, indicating to the brunette that this room had not been used in some time.
Once there they were met by a sight none of them had guessed. Not even she had any sort of inclination. Professor Quirrell, their spineless Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor stood facing a large mirror. His face had cracked into a rather creepy looking smile as they had approached. His words were taunting, spoken – surprisingly - without his usual stutter.
"Oh look, you all made it alive and here I was with the impression that only our dearest Harry, the boy who lived would be strong enough to make it this far." He had turned to them. His face paler than Hermione had ever seen it and his eyes burning with a cruelty that disturbed her greatly.
The brunette had clutched her wand tightly, moving in closer to the two boys. She knew that they wouldn't have the skills needed to defend themselves. She didn't have the skill to defend them either but she could at least try too. It would involve utilising the knowledge she had learned so far but at least it was something right? At the very least it was better than doing nothing.
"The mud-blood thinks she has a chance of facing me!?" The man laughed coldly. A smirk that Hermione could only describe as deadly adorning his face. His whole personality was a complete one eighty from what they had come to know him as in their lessons and it truthfully unnerved her. Gone was the stuttering, terrified mouse of a man that had needed to try ever so hard to teach them about shield charms.
"Enough hilarity, take out the mud-blood and blood traitor. This is between Mr Potter and myself." A weak voice hissed from Quirrell's location but before she had the chance to react, Quirrell did. A spell barrelling in her direction before the brunette could even blink.
"That's all I remember, I know Harry and Ron both made it out." She finished, throwing a glance towards the now vacant beds. The boys had been allowed to leave at some point between the first time she had woken and now. She glanced up wearily, Her hesitant gaze meeting the older woman's eyes for the first time since she had begun to recount her story. She gasped, seeing the furry bubbling within dark brown. Hermione felt herself tense in response. Her body moving automatically to distance herself from the potential threat.
Her movement however seemed to snap Mrs Lestrange out of whatever she was lost too, her arms tightening once more to keep Hermione in place as the younger brunette saw the woman begin to take deep, slow breaths. "I'm sorry little darling, I'm furious. Not at you before you get the wrong idea. I'm furious at Albus for allowing the three of you to get hurt and I'm furious at Quirrell and The…" she paused an internal battle obviously happening as the older woman stumbled over what to call the evil man Hermione had just faced.
"I'm furious at Voldemort." Andromeda finally settled on. An unspoken part of Hermione released the breath she had not realised she was holding. Her heart obviously already banking too hard on this woman proving to be genuine in her care of her. She was not entirely sure how she would have reacted if Andromeda had referred to the vile man as 'the Dark Lord'. She wasn't convinced she would have remained level headed enough in the slightest.
As it was she also wasn't entirely sure how to react to someone being furious on her behalf so she chose instead to answer with a hesitant nod. Her heart calmed a little as Andromeda appeared to fully relax back in the bed they lay upon.
"Poppy said if you are still doing as well in the morning you can rejoin your classes then. Once she has performed whatever tests she deems necessary. But for now Hermione, get some rest. I'll be here when you wake." Hermione nodded hesitantly at the words, tiredness dictating that she chose to settle herself back into Andromeda. Her eyes closed with little difficulty as she felt herself relax. The exhaustion from her ordeal and so much emotion catching up with her quickly. The scent of the woman's expensive Sandalwood and vanilla perfume filling her lungs. A steady heartbeat lulling her to sleep. Safe in the arms of a woman she barely knew yet a woman whose very presence offered her comfort and warmth despite her weary guarded heart.