A Certain Amount of Sense

Chapter 12

When Hermione awoke, it was dark already in the hospital wing. Waking up from a potion-induced sleep was rather different than waking up normally. “This must be what a hangover feels like,” she thought as her mind took over by analyzing and cataloguing exactly what she was feeling. Her head was a little groggy—like how she felt after waking up from a really long nap. Aside from that, muscle control: still lacking. Her limbs were simply refusing to move as she wanted them to. She tried swallowing. Ugh. She could still taste the last bit of the Sleeping Potion as she swirled her tongue around her teeth. “Forgot to brush again. Second time in two days. What’s wrong with me?”

Of course, it was then that she remembered exactly what was wrong with her. The memory slammed into her with almost physical force. She started hyperventilating.

“Miss Granger! Miss Granger! You must try to calm down. Oh God, where’s that potion? Miss Granger! Please!”

She felt a hand on her shoulder trying to hold her down. Something cold was brought to her lips, and she smelled more of the Sleeping Potion. She flinched away; her body was finally responding. Except that the smell had affected her more than she thought. She rolled over and vomited.

“Oh my. Miss Granger. Here, here.” Someone was pulling her hair back from her face and soothingly rubbing her back. She realized that it was Madam Pomfrey. She must be back in the hospital wing.

When she was done throwing up and coughing, she remained in that position a moment, away from the knowing eyes of the nurse, before finally sitting back up. Madam Pomfrey was holding a glass for her to drink.

“No, I don’t want anymore….”

“Hush, now. It’s only water. Drink. It’ll make you feel better.” She raised the glass to her lips. Hermione hesitated a moment to sniff at the contents before opening her mouth. It was true; the cool water did indeed help, somewhat. While she gulped away at the water, Madam Pomfrey cast a vanishing spell to clean up the vomit, extending it to apply to Hermione, so that all traces of the vile substance were removed from her mouth. It was a definite improvement but not enough to quell Hermione’s ingrained desire to brush her teeth.

“Can I…Can I please…,” she tried to ask, but her voice was stuck in her throat.

“What is it, child?”

“May I please brush my teeth?” The nurse was surprised by the request but quickly hid her response.

“Why, yes. Of course, my dear. Is there anything else?”

Hermione started to think, but her mind ran into the barrier that was trauma. No, not now. Not yet. She couldn’t deal with that right now.

“No, thank you.” Pomfrey looked at her charge critically before sighing.

“I know that you have just endured a most horrible ordeal, Miss Granger, and I want you to know that I…we will do anything we can to help you.” Hermione managed a blank look. What did Madam Pomfrey possibly think she could do to help her? But she knew it would be better to take the path of contrition for now.

“Thank you, ma’am. I understand that. About that toothbrush?”

“Yes, of course. Give me one minute. I know we keep some spare ones somewhere here.” The school nurse left Hermione’s side to look for the toothbrush. Hermione rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. How many times had she been here before? Twice in her second year, and then once again at the end of last year. By now she knew exactly how many stones made up the ceiling above her. One thousand, seven hundred and thirty-two. She looked for the ones she liked the most; the ones that reminded her of something. There was one almost straight above her that could possibly be an incisor. To the left was one shaped like a time turner. The mortar lines leading away from it even made a sort of chain. And in the far corner was her favorite one: the one that reminded her of Crookshanks. It was comforting to know that there were some things would never change, no matter what.

Madam Pomfrey returned with a toothbrush, toothpaste and a few other amenities. “Here you go, dear. While you’re in the bathroom, perhaps you’ll want to take a bath also?” Hermione nodded, grateful that she didn’t have to ask for the towel, shampoo, soap, and hairbrush that the nurse was holding in the crook of her arm.

“This way, my dear.” Poppy bent down to put an arm behind Hermione. She helped her sit up and then allowed her to swing her legs down. There were slippers waiting for her on the floor. Once again, she was thankful for the small things. When she stood, it took second to recover from the head rush.

“Steady now. You’ve been out and lying down for quite a while.” Hermione let the matron guide her to the bathroom.

“Here you go. Take as long as you need. And let me know if you need anything.” Hermione nodded, but felt she needed to say it one more time.

“Thank you.” Madam Pomfrey smiled.

“There, child. It will all be all right. I promise.” Hermione nodded again. Pomfrey set down what she had been holding and turned to leave. Before she closed the door, she added, “There’s a change of undergarments inside the towel as well.” And she was gone.

Hermione continued to look at the door for a few minutes before moving. “Right. Toothbrush. You can do this.” It was one of the first things she could remember her parents teaching her to do, even before they taught her to read. Within the familiarity of the task she was able to find solace. Back and forth. Up and down. Forty-five degree angle at the gum line. Front side, top and bottom, back side. Rinse and spit.

She repeated the cycle four more times before she was satisfied. Her gums were sore and bleeding slightly, but at least her teeth were clean. Now for the bath. She turned the tap towards the hottest setting and let the steaming water fill the tub. She generally preferred showers, since they were quicker and more practical, but in this case, she wanted—no needed—the feeling of being cocooned. Without thinking, she started to undress. As she removed her bra, she could feel the tenderness from where Malfoy had groped her. She looked in the mirror. Her assumption had been correct; there was a hand-shaped mark on her left breast. She turned away in shame. It was as if he had branded her with his mark. As if he had wanted to remind her that she was his.

Numbly, she climbed into the bath. The water was scalding, but she made no cry. It would only serve to cleanse her of Malfoy’s touch that much faster, she reasoned.

***

Madame Pomfrey found her there an hour later, still scrubbing away at her skin until it was raw and almost bleeding in some places.

“Miss Granger! What are you…. Stop that at once! Oh, why did I think I could trust you in here all by yourself for so long?” She tried to seize Hermione’s hands, but the girl resisted so fiercely that in the end, she was forced to stun her. At once, she fell limply back into the bath water. Poppy scanned her young charge’s body critically. It was not a pretty sight. “I should have known,” she thought to herself deploringly. She managed to remove her from the bath, dry her down, and wrap a robe around her. She then levitated her back to her bed and tucked her in. Another dose of the Sleeping Potion and she would be sleeping until the next morning. Although Poppy knew the possible side of effects of too much Sleeping Potion, she also knew that it would be safer for Hermione at the moment to remain unconscious.

She went over to the fireplace and threw some of the glittering Floo powder into the fire.

“The Headmaster’s office.”

She got down onto her hands and knees and stuck her head in the fire. When she opened her eyes again, it was Dumbledore’s office she saw. The old man was sitting behind his desk and had turned in his chair to look at her. She had yet to catch him not looking at her when she talked to him this way, although she had often hoped to surprise him.

“Headmaster.”

“Hello, Poppy. Is everything all right with Miss Granger?”

“Actually, Albus, that’s why I wanted to speak with you. But I’m too old to be talking to you through the fire like this. Can you and Minerva please meet me in the hospital wing?”

“Of course. We’ll be there momentarily.”

“Thank you.”

About ten minutes later, the two walked in together. The Gryffindor Head of House was clearly upset.

“What is it, Poppy? Albus said you wanted to speak to us regarding Miss Granger.”

“Yes, well. She woke up earlier tonight and started panicking. I attempted to sedate her, but she resisted the potion I offered her and threw up. Afterwards, she wanted to brush her teeth. I suggested that she bathe as well and left her alone in the lavatory. When she didn’t come out after an hour’s time I went to check up on her, and I found her…I found her like this.” She had walked them over to Hermione’s bed and pulled back the blankets to reveal her bare arms. They were red with scratches and oozing in some raw patches. McGonagall gasped, while Dumbledore only shook his head in sympathy.

“How did this happen?” demanded McGonagall.

“I’m afraid I made the mistake of trusting her by herself. My guess is that she took to the task of cleansing herself rather severely. I’ve heard that it’s actually not uncommon behavior for those who have just been sexually assaulted. I should have considered that, Albus. I’m sorry. I have failed you. And Miss Granger.” She returned the sheets to their prior position and continued to look down, afraid to meet his eyes.

“Now, now Poppy. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I think I speak for all of us when I say that it is easy to expect Miss Granger to behave as one beyond her years. She has always, in the past, performed exceedingly well in almost every task set before her, and sometimes we forget that she is still just a child. And now, most tragically, a child in more need than I fear we can give.”

“Albus, perhaps we should contact her parents after all. I understand your reluctance before, but under the circumstances….”

“No, Minerva. That will have to be a decision for Miss Granger to make.” McGonagall gave an uncharacteristic snort of objection, but otherwise remained silent. She looked down in pity at her student. Of all the people this could have happened to…. It was no secret that Hermione had become a favorite of hers. She had agreed at first with the headmaster about not contacting her parents because she was afraid they would have pulled her out of the school. But now….

“Will you inform Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley of her condition?”

“I believe Severus has already spoken to Mr. Weasley.”

As McGonagall stared in shock at Dumbledore, Poppy looked away uneasily. She managed to extricate herself from the conversation on the pretext of needing to take stock of her medicine cabinet.

“How did…why would…?” Minerva asked, clearly still flabbergasted from the headmaster’s announcement. At Albus’ benign smile though, she took control of herself and tried to calm down.

“Albus Dumbledore, what possible reason would you have for asking Severus to speak to Mr. Weasley about Miss Granger?”

“Now, Minerva. I never said I asked him to. I only managed to interrupt their conversation while I was looking for Severus. God only knows what he was thinking at the time. Regardless, the deed is done, and short of yet another memory charm, we will have to trust that Mr. Weasley will be responsible with the information.” A sudden thought occurred to Minerva.

“Albus, you don’t think Draco would….”

“No. Severus has already seen to it. As soon as he returned to his dungeons, he spoke with Messrs. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Neither of the three will be spreading any…rumors, pertaining to Miss Granger.”

“Well, that is a piece of good news. I would hate to think what would happen if word got out that…well, if it became known what happened to Hermione.”

“Yes, I suspect Severus had the same idea.”

“I see.” Minerva paused. “I suppose I should thank him.”

“There’s no need for that now. I wouldn’t want you to choke on a fur ball,” said a silky voice.

“Severus!”

“Minerva. Headmaster. I came to check on the status of Madam Pomfrey’s store of Bubotubor Pus Relief Ointment. After the accident this morning, I would not be surprised if she needed me to brew some more to restock her shelves.”

“Of course, Severus. I believe Poppy is checking the very same thing at the moment.”

“Thank you, headmaster. If you will excuse me.” Dumbledore and McGonagall parted to allow Snape to walk through. Minerva noticed with disdain that he did not even pause to look towards the beds, but proceeded to where the medicine cabinet was located. Before he had a chance to confer with Madame Pomfrey, however, the headmaster called out to him.

“Severus.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I thought you might want to know. Miss Granger awoke earlier, but she is sleeping once more. It seems that she is still quite shaken from the ordeal.”

“I see. If I can offer any assistance….”

“Perhaps…you could relieve Poppy later of her vigil.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Severus. For everything.” Snape gave a curt nod in acknowledgement. There was an awkward silence as he studiously avoided looking at McGonagall while Dumbledore looked at her expectantly. Finally, she gave in to the headmaster’s stare.

“Yes, thank you, Severus. Your quick actions on behalf of Miss Granger are…appreciated.”

“I only did what I would hope you would have done for one of my Slytherins, Minerva.” She had the decency to blush.

“Yes, of course, Severus. Might I ask, how did you convince Mr. Malfoy and his peers not to speak about the incident?”

“Why, I only reminded them that if Miss Parkinson were to discover that he had been…indiscreet…with Miss Granger, she would certainly raise such a uprorar that Lucius would eventually find out.”

“I see.” McGonagall’s lips pursed into a slight frown.

“That was good thinking, Severus,” said Dumbledore in an effort to maintain the peace.

“Of course, headmaster. There is a reason, after all, that you appointed me the Head of Slytherin.” He graced them with one last patronizing half-sneer—the most he could get away with in front of the headmaster—before sweeping around in a grand gesture and returning to the medicine cabinet.