Broken

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

I. Every new beginning -

The first things coming back were sounds - sharp, piercing sounds. Then the feeling of being moved. Screaming white brightness found its way behind closed eyes. Finally a smooth gliding back into dreamless darkness.

~~~~~

When next he woke, he found himself in a bare room. A gloomy light filtered through high arched windows. His limbs felt like lead, much too weak to lift his head. He tried to open his eyes. Don't lose consciousness again... don't ... you're in mortal danger! Great venomous fangs pierced his neck. An excruciating pain exploded in his head, raced through his veins. His body convulsed. He tried to scream, but no sound left his lips. Then a merciful darkness embraced him again and he knew no more.

~~~~~

"So...will....will he live?" the young woman asked without any emotion.

The gnarled old healer who urgently murmured spells over the terribly wounded man on the bed, looked up quickly at the woman, taking in her exhausted appearance. She looked done in, with dark shadows circling her eyes. They spoke of too many sleepless nights and too many days without mercy. A thin white line, left over from a curse, not averted but seemingly diminished traced its way from her temple to her chin.

"It looks like you brought him in just in time...," he said, stepping from the side of the bed leaving room for a fresh-faced nurse who now carefully applied some greenish potion to the torn neck of his patient.

"Good that she told us why he did what he did - otherwise we hardly would put that much effort into saving ... him," the healer thought to himself.

"Though it's still possible he won't make it." he went on again. "But he seems to be the stubborn kind, fights like hell. And we'll support him as far as we're able."

From the corner of his eye he saw that she gave a thoughtful nod.

"That's good to know...," she whispered barely audible.

She looked at the man on the bed. His face was as white as the sheets he lay on. Dark, sweat-drenched hair stuck to his forehead. His hands rested almost lifelessly next to his body. He seemed so... fragile. He, who always was so powerful and in control. Never, not in her wildest dreams had she ever thought to find him like this. And never ever had she thought to feel for him like she did now. No, not hate or aversion, nor anger. Only, well, what was it? Compassion? Concern or even fear - for him? She didn't know, couldn't and wouldn't find out what she felt for him right now. She was so tired, body and heart. She was almost dead on her feet.

The healer shot her a quick glance, concern in his eyes.

"Miss Granger, I think you should rest. We will prepare a room for you ..."

"No, thank you. I have to leave. I have to go back to Hogwarts. The Dark Lord might be defeated, but some of the Death Eaters still offer resistance. This is not over."

With these words, she gave him a short nod and left the room.

The healer stared at the closed door for a second. Then with an accepting shrug he turned back, checking his patient's vital signs again.

"No, this is not over. Not in a while," he murmured.

~~~~~

Hogwarts looked like a storm-torn battle ship from afar, drenched in blood, for the sun was setting behind the forbidden forest. Dark shadows nested in crevices and behind turrets. Windows stared like empty eye-sockets. But it still stood proudly and unconquered. And it was home, the only home left to far too many now. Those who could had left the country when the Dark Lord came into power again; others went into hiding and some found refuge at Hogwarts, which now was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Many had died during the great battle which led to the destruction of Voldemort. And many more would die before this was over.

It was only seven weeks since the Dark Lord fell, but it felt like ages, filled with pain and sorrow. The Death Eaters were regrouping for a new and probably decisive battle. A new leader had risen. Still, nobody knew who he or she was. The Order fought on many battle lines.

But three days ago the fighting ceased.

~~~~~

Harry was sitting at a table in the great hall poring over some documents, when Ron entered. He looked quite downhearted.

"Mum's not recovering from Fred's death. She still cries her eyes out every night and there's no fight left in her. And nobody seems to know what to do about it."

Harry looked up and sighed.

"Seems like no one will be the same as before. We all wear the scars of this the rest of our lives."

He sighed again.

"Makes me think of Hermione. You know where she is? Or when she is coming back?"

Ron shook his head.

"I've no idea. We ... we don't talk much since the Senex curse. I mean, she's 28 now!"

"Be happy she's only 28 and not 128 and probably dead!" Harry grumbled.

"Yes, yes I know and I am thankful. Great, that she managed a Protego Charm, so it was only ten years she got older ... but still - she is older than me now and this ... and this .... Well, she's changed so much...I feel...I don't know...I feel a bit uneasy with her...." He squinted at Harry.

"I feel so bad about it, as if I let her down... But I can't help it."

He stopped speaking and looked sad and torn.

Harry squeezed Ron's shoulder.

"I see, Ron. Don't worry too much. I think she'll understand. Just be the good friend you once were before you two became...er, you know, involved .... I'm sure that's what she needs now. From you and from me, too." he went on briskly.

Harry turned to the clutter on the table and pointed to a map. "Here, Ron, look at this. Do you see anything ... unusual on it?"

"No, what do you mean?" Ron asked.

"Well, I'm not sure what it means, but look at some of the names and places on it. They seem to fade away. As if they were trying to hide themselves..."

Run grunted. "Yeah, you're right. Funny."

A thoughtful silence fell between them.

"Where did you get this map by the way?" asked Ron after a while.

"Er, I found it in Dumbledore's office in a locked drawer. Perhaps something Snape left behind? He was the last to use that room..."

Ron nodded. "I think, we should take this to the others. Maybe one of them has an idea."

"Good idea. Maybe McGonagall can tell whether this was Snape's or Dumbledore's. Let's get going!"

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N A thousand thanks to my beta, Celta Diabólica

To be continued

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