Hermione's Letter

Chapter 15

Professor McGonagall choked on her hot chocolate, and almost dropped the cup on the floor. Professor Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. Samantha didn't react at all, having been stunned into silence. Sarah just clung to Fred while George and Percy stood looking bewildered. Ginny, however, plunged forward at Hermione.

"Hermione, WHAT did you just say?" she said in a voice that was ready to burst free of her voice box.

"Yes, you heard me correctly," Hermione announced again gleefully, "Ron and I are getting married! And it'll be a wonderfully joyous occasion, with ribbons and balloons and lovely dresses and all manner of bountiful things, and it'll be nice for all of our fans, you know..."

Fortunately, Professor McGonagall had regained her composure by then and had led Hermione away with haste, motioning to the others to stay behind. Professor Dumbledore accompanied her as they led the girl away, into a room labelled "Département Cérébral", which Professor McGonagall recognized as, literally, 'Brain Department'...

Ginny and her friends did not see Hermione again for a long time.

*

Hannah Abbott was born in a small town in the centre of, by her own admission, 'nowhere', and in the short time she had experienced so far, she had never, not once, felt quite like she did now.

Hannah Abb was thirteen years old and had flowing blonde hair, which, for her third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she had decided to grow extremely long. Her hair, which she had grown over the summer, was just about two feet long, and swung nicely behind her, often allowed to be free.

Her face, perfectly formed and without any flaw, minor, major or otherwise, sat on top of her body, which was rapidly growing now. Her height was the same as that of Harry Potter, her newfound boyfriend, whose arms she was presently wrapped in.

She had not experienced such emotions. She wasn't even sure what she was experiencing. It felt strange; it made her very comfortable yet very nervous; it was a very powerfully positive emotion; yet a sensation that made her insides oscillate like the strings of a harp when plucked.

"So... what shall we do now?" Hannah asked him.

"You're not comfortable as we are?" he asked her teasingly.

Hannah smiled. "Of course I am," she answered, stroking Harry's face, "but... let's be... more comfortable," she finished.

Harry's mind flew through endless clouds of possibilities of implication of her request, and then formed a plan.

He was going to torture her.

"Do you mean like... this?" he asked, as he gently kissed the top of her head, and moved slowly on down to her forehead, running the fingers of his left hand through her hair as he descended.

Her smile broadened as he continued to drape her with kisses, moving slowly down her face, kissing her rosy-red cheeks and nibbling at her nose slightly. She responded with a quick shot at his neck with her lips, after which he brought his own lips down on hers, increasing the pressure slightly as he did so.

She opened her mouth to Harry as soon as her confidence in him had been built a little more, and their tongues intertwined like the branches of a bush. They continued their embrace for many minutes, until they were shocked out of it by the sound of a door opening.

They turned around, Harry's arm still around Hannah's body, and saw a door forming in the wall, then sliding aside. In the doorway stood, Hannah recognised from the time aboard the ambulances, Fleur Delacour.

"It is time to go now," she said. "Come with me and I will take you to your rooms."

Harry and Hannah, after gathering what belongings were present in the room, followed the sixth-year out of the sealed hospital chamber.

*

As everyone assembled in Beauxbatons Central, the massive, circular structure in the centre of the school, made entirely of crystal, Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons headmistress, stepped out onto the transparent stage in the centre aft of the building to address the students.

Once everyone had settled down, she began. Harry sat with Hannah, their hands joined below them, but Harry felt strange without his friends Ron and Hermione, both of whom were still hospitalized.

Hannah smiled at Harry, and he returned the gesture, but he was unable to clear these fleeting thoughts from his mind, even as Madam Maxime began.

« Bonsoir à tous et bienvenue à l'Académie de Beauxbatons d'Éducation et d'Avancement Magique de France. Je suis Madame Maxime, la directrice de l'Académie. Je sais que vous êtes avide de commencer voter repas, alors je ne vous demanderai pas de m'écouter trop longtemps, mais j'ai quelques choses importantes à vous dire.

Pour commencer, le tournement annuel de Quidditch commencera dans trois semaines et les équipes de Hogwarts pourront participer à côté des nôtres, l'Eau, la Terre, l'Aire et le Sol. Vos équipes auront besoin d' entraînement, et pour cela, nous vous permettons d' utiliser nos trois terrains de Quidditch. Vous aurez besoin, bien sûr, de les réserver en avance.

J'ai également décidé que vous continuerez d'avoir des cours avec vos professeurs anglais, avec le soutien de nos professeurs qlais. À mon avis, cela rendra tout plus facile. Pour ceux qui ont envie d'apprendre le français, il y aura des cours avec notre professeur de langues, Señor Rodriguez, qui vient d'Espagne mais qui peut parler le français, l'espagnol, l'italien et l'anglais.

C'est tout ce que j'ai à vous dire, alors, que le repas commence! »

None of the Hogwarts students, apart from Hannah, who had understood most of the speech, had had any idea what she had said, that is, until Señor Rodriguez, the Beauxbatons languages teacher, then stepped onto the stage to give a translation in English.

"I'm now going to repeat Madame Maxime's speech in English for the benefit of our guests.

Good evening, everyone and welcome to Beauxbatons Academy of Magical Education and Advancement in France. I am Madame Maxime, the headmistress of the school. I'm sure you're all eager to eat so I won't ask you to listen to me for very long, but I have a few things to tell you. Firstly the annual Quidditch tournament will start in three weeks, and the Hogwarts teams will be able to participate alongside our own teams, Water, Earth, Air and Sun. Your teams will need practice of course, so feel free to use any of the three Quidditch fields. You will, of course, need to book them in advance.

Also, I have decided that you will continue to have classes with your English teachers, supported by those of our staff who can speak English. This will make it easier for everyone, in my opinion. For those who wish to learn French, there will be private classes with our language teacher, Señor Rodriguez, who is from Spain, but can speak French, Spanish, English and Italian. Those interested will need to sign up with him; simply owl him if you wish to participate.

That's all I have to say, so, let the meal commence!"

As he finished, the plates on the tables in Beauxbatons Central filled with food, and inspired the usual sense of awe in the first-year students; the Muggle-borns especially had not seen sucperformed, apart from during the first meal at Hogwarts. It was all still a lot for a young mind-body system to accept.

Fleur Delacour had not been exaggerating when she had described the meal the visiting students and staff were about to be presented with. As in Hogwarts, the tables, although here made of stone, and circular, rather than the wooden benches present in the English school, possessed plates, dishes and glasses that refilled themselves. The choice of foods was as wide and varied, although it was more predominately based around French cuisine.

On the other side of the room from Harry and Hannah, who were sat at a smaller table than most, a table designed for two people, Samantha, Anaïs, Ginny and Amélie were together on one of the larger tables, which were laid out for four occupants, discussing the events of the previous day.

"Did you know anything about this, Ginny?" Amélie asked Ginny inquisitively.

"Not a thing," Ginny declared. "It's not a surprise really. The way they act around each other in class... but then, even in the wizarding world, they can't get married for at least another three years. Why Hermione has decided to announce it now, when so much could change, is beyond me."

Samantha shot a glance at Anaïs while Ginny was explaining, and Anaïs acknowledged with the smallest of nods.

"It is very strange," the French girl said, looking at Ginny, "but we must, until we find out more, accept what we have been told. The teachers would never allow it, of course."

Amélie tried to continue but Anaïs shot her twin a glance that told her to leave it. Amélie tipped her head slightly to acknowledge.

Ginny and Amélie were still quite puzzled by the whole event, but were happy to move onto another topic, in any case, so they didn't query it and continued with a new theme.

They discussed many things, in fact; the lessons at Beauxbatons; which teachers were nice and whio avoid; the learning of French (Samantha was interested in learning, and Amélie offered to teach her); the food, which was surprisingly nice, and with some encouragement from Amélie and her twin Anaïs the two Hogwarts girls tried and enjoyed the more traditionally French parts of the menu, and of course what had happened over the previous few days.

Eventually, they all left Beauxbatons Central and returned to their quarters, eager to get some rest.

*

"Let me kill you!" Voldemort boomed.

Hermione stood her ground, her wand in front of her. The Dark Lord faced her, his wand identically positioned.

"Avada Kedavra!" he called, no hate present in his voice, no emotion, just intent.

Hermione, at the same moment, cast a shield charm. It was but a weak charm, but through an amazing feat of luck, it deflected Voldemort's attack. Hermione, however, was left weakened, and collapsed down to the floor.

Voldemort then altered his approach, realising something, Hermione noticed, as an expression of thought came over his face. Hermione expected another Unforgivable Curse to approach her, but instead, a more benign one made its presence felt.

"Accio Granger!"

Hermione floated off of the floor and over to Voldemort, who rotated her to a standing position and released her from the Accio spell, before calling on Petrificus Totalus to hold her still.

He then produced a complex device that bore more than a passing resemblance to a bed. It had various instruments attached to it, all tipped with shining metal spikes, and each bearing the logo of a snake.

Hermione suddenly found herself floating over and onto the device, being strapped down by snakes that wrapped themselves around her body as she was placed on the complex torture device.

Or so she thought it was. It certainly looked like one.

Another wave of Voldemort's wand brought the metal prongs towards Hermione. They came in as slowly as a tide, yet Hione could not ignore their approach...

The first point touched the skin on her left foot, stopped its approach, and a snake slithered out of the end, embedding itself into Hermione's skin. She screeched with pain as it clasped around the nerves in the base of her foot, and eventually, rendered the nerves useless, the pain subsiding as it did.

She felt a wave of energy pass through her brain, and she felt her mind closing off.

Voldemort, however, suddenly pointed his wand in the air, halting the procedure.

Without warning, he Disapparated, much to Hermione's surprise.

Whether he Reapparated, Hermione would never know.

*

She stirred.

"Time to wake up, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey whispered softly to Hermione as she lay in her bed, now wearing the medical uniform of Beauxbatons; a red garment, light and immeasurably soft. Her wand was lying on a bedside cabinet and her hair was longer than it had ever been; it reached most of the way down her back now, and had somehow entirely straightened.

Hermione rubbed her eyes as her mind became aware of her surroundings, although she did not recognize her present location. This lack of information, however, was nothing compared to the sight of her parents, both of whom were sitting at the opposite end of her bed, looking earnestly at her pretty face.

She vocalised her thoughts.

"Madam Pomfrey... Mum... Dad... why am I here? I don't remember being brought in. What's wrong with me?"

An uneasy silence ensued as her parents both looked at her with sympathy, invoking in Hermione feelings of bewilderment.

After all, she was...

Madam Pomfrey, however, was more inclined to speak. "Hermione, do you know where you are?"

Hermione repressed a glare; she felt a little patronized by this question, but nevertheless gave a response. "I presume I am still in Beauxbatons, but I do not recall when, how or why I got into this room," she answered, looking around the ward, which was as purple as some of the corridors were. There was very little decoration in here, however. There were also no other patients, which rather concerned the young Gryffindor, as it was clearly a hospital ward from the layout of beds.

"That's right, you're in Beauxbatons," Madam Pomfrey continued, "it's good that you remember that. This room is the... psychiatric ward of Beauxbatons Hospital. You were suffering from a disorder of the brain that only occurs to those with powerful magical talent; on suffering severe emotional trauma, sometimes the problem is invoked. You were unfortunate to have this happen to you. Your symptoms included clouded perceptions of the world, inability to accept the truth, and the beginnings of madness. It was at this point that we brought you in to the hospital. The treatment required us to induce a coma, and now that we have confirmed your treatment was successful, we have awoken you."

Hermione nodded after she considered that which she had just been told. A lesser person may have been overwhelmed, but the Gryffindor genius, as she was known, was easily able to accept it. She asked a further question.

"How long was I in a coma for?"

"Two months, two weeks and five days. The date is November 20th, and it's nine in the morning."

This was not as easily acceptable for the young girl. She had to register now that she had missed nearly three months of work, and the look on her face was enough to show the observers that she wasn't quite ready for that revelation.

"You can't be serious." She looked to her parents for support, but they simply nodded.

"I'd better be getting back to work then," she announced, and tried to move her body, but it simply stayed where it was. Madam Pomfrey looked sympathetically at Hermione again.

"Hermione, I'm afraid to tell you that there were some... complications during the procedure."

Hermione looked at Pomfrey as if to say 'what do you mean, complications?'

Pomfrey answered the look sombrely. "I'm afraid your lower body is paralysed. The effects will eventually wear off, but it may be a matter of days, weeks, months, or even years, before you regain full mobility. I'm sorry."

*

It was a long time before Harry was allowed to see his friend Hermione again.

Hermione's emotions had fluttered about like the wings of a butterfly as she came to accept the true implications of her loss. The events of the year had now cost her her mobility, and Hermione was highly resentful of her future self for involving her. The implications had forced her to miss Quidditch, to miss two months of classes, and to not even have the ability to leave her bed unaided. All in all, Hermione was very bitter, and as a result, Harry had been advised to stay away by Professor McGonagall. Normally, he wouldn't have paid any attention and would have gone to comfort his friend anyway, but even Fred and George, who would normally promote that kind of endeavour, told him it was for the best for Hermione.

So he had reluctantly obeyed McGonagall's directive and had given Hermione the time to herself.

But when he did see her again, things were quite different to his expectations of the girl.

The room had been cleared of personnel in order to afford the pair some privacy.

As Harry knocked on the door, he swallowed back a lump in his throat. There was so much to tell her...

He heard her voice faintly inviting him to enter. No convictions and no energy were present in her request, and this, at least, was clear to Harry.

Harry opened the big door, and stepped through it, closing it quietly behind him, and spotted Hermione instantly, her big brown hair visible from any distance.

As he approached her, he looked straight into her eyes. He found the usual difficulties he had with reading anything from the expression of a girl completely eradicated; there was so much pain in her eyes it was almost enough to make him turn away. But for Hermione's sake, he didn't do so.

Passing the halfway point, he moved to the side of the room to pick up a stool, but not once did he break the eye contact. Neither did she; not willing to break their link even for a second, she followed his eyes as they followed hers.

He closed the remaining gap quickly and perched himself on the stool next to her bed, and gently took her hand, holding it tightly within his own, and allowing her to begin. He didn't know what to say, even if he did want to start this most difficult of exchanges, which he had no desire to do.

She opened her mouth, and weakly formed the syllables that made up Harry's name.

"I... am happy to see you again, Harry," she said.

Harry didn't know how to translate the unexpected hesitation in her voice, and he had no choice but to hope for the best. He decided to return the sentiment, inciting a weak smile from his friend, and a new response.

"Did... did Madam Pomfrey explain my condition to you? Did she tell you... well, of my disability?"

Harry nodded to her, still maintaining eye contact. "Has it improved at all?"

Hermione explained how for the past weeks she had tried and tried to regenerate feeling in her legs, with the help of Madam Pomfrey and the French medical staff, but had been totally unsuccessful. She had tried spells, incantations, herbal remedies, and even direct neural stimulation, but despite their best efforts, Hermione's hopes had been unfulfilled.

To add to this, she noted, her legs could not survive on life support for much longer. The blood flow was slowly beginning to deteriorate; Hermione had had great fortune that it had survived to the present time. It would take something particularly special to revive them now.

Even Professor Dumbledore had tried to make Hermione's legs function, and although he had been successful in making them move, this was only movement under external control. Hermione was still unable to do the job herself.

After his failure, he had had a long chat with Hermione, explaining that no matter how powerful the wizard, how skilled the witch, that sometimes, problems just couldn't be solved with magic.

This had been one week previously. Hermione still hadn't accepted the full implications of the new reality she was being challenged with by her own body.

She was clinging to that hope that she might get something back, however unlikely it was.

"Harry... what am I supposed to do?" she asked after she had completed her explanations of recent events. "How am I supposed to live my life like this? And..." she whispered, "how am I supposed to complete the mission? I'm deeply involved in this; I have been right from the start. Ever since I received that blasted letter."

Harry allowed Hermione to release her feelings and promised himself he was not going to take it personally. He could see ever more clearly how wound up she had become in her confinement to the same room for three months. It was perhaps worse than prison, as there was no set date she would be released; she did not know if she was going to face another class again this year; there had been talk of Hermione having to repeat her third year, and on approaching this subject, Hermione's anger again bubbled to the surface.

"Honestly! Thinking about making me re-sit the year just because of a bloody injury! I'll be damned if I am going to do that. "

Her feelings were beginning to overcome her, and recognising her need without any need for prompting, Harry pulled her into a hug. He held her very tightly, his arms completely surrounding her, and giving her the support she wanted.

Hermione felt such power in his arms, in that warm body wrapped around her own; she had not felt so overwhelmed with sensations in months, except for pain. She didn't break the embrace even for an instant.

Her eyes filled with tears; Hermione, however, didn't care. She was happy again, if only for an instant. She would still have Harry there to support her, even if things became more serious. She had not, until now, realised how lucky she was to have him as a friend.

And it was not his fame, his Quidditch skills, or his body that Hermione could see in him.

It was his heart, which, as much as it tended to lead his actions, was pure and true. Hermione could feel it beating and its gentle rhythm began to fill her spirit with a power long since lost in her.

"But Harry... what can I do?"

He took her hand again, holding it clamped between his own like a crab's pincers.

"We'll find a way, Hermione. Trust me," he calmed her with his softened voice.

He looked into her eyes again, and she returned the gesture, before sweeping him away in a full kiss.

Harry was momentarily fazed, and didn't break the kiss, but as what he was doing dawned on him, he pulled away.

Hermione gave him a puzzled glance as he climbed off of the bed.

"Hermione... we can't do this. I can't do this. I... well, that is, I should have told you earlier, but..."

The girl looked like she was about to break into tears as he explained what had happened between him and Hannah while Hermione and Ron had been unconscious. She was about to crack, when he backed off, saying simply that he had to go.

He had made it halfway across the room when Hermione scrambled out of bed and struggled across the room to follow him, with no regard for what she was doing.

When Harry turned, his face indicated something to her, and she realised her perspective had changed.

She was standing tall, her legs shaking, but she was standing tall, about two metres away from his position.

Her left leg started to give way, and Harry spotted it in time to grab her, and hold her standing up.

With one arm around his shoulder, Harry yelled for Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall to join them.

Soon, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey entered, and this time, Minerva did drop her drink.

*

Hermione screamed as the snake pierced her skin, and entered her arm, neutralizing the nerves and replacing them with its own substances as it proceeded further into her body. Most of her nervous system had been replaced by this point and Hermione had little control over her own body.

Voldemort continued to induce pain with the Cruciatus curse, in order that the sensations would be continuous throughout the torture he was exposing the young girl to.

But when he turned his back, the girl lying on the bench next to that of Hermione hit him dead central in the back with the Petrificus Totalus curse, freezing him for long enough that she could get off of the platform and steal Voldemort's wand. By using the Priori Incantatem curse she was able to determine how to remove Hermione from her torture table safely and to help her to walk.

But Voldemort recovered quickly. He ordered his assistant, Wormtail, to kill the girls, but slowly, so that they would feel it.

Wormtail used the Locomotor Mortis curse on the girls, and then used a second spell to remove all of their clothing. The perverted and corrupted servant of Voldemort then proceeded to torture the pair in a manner so horrific that both Hermione and Susan wished they had simply allowed Voldemort to use the Avada Kedavra spell on them.

Wormtail picked up Hermione with a metal hand he had summoned, and slowly began to crush her body.

As the pain became intolerable, Hermione bolted upright in her bed, whacking her head on the shelving units in her shared room with Mia, and screamed instinctively. Mia also awoke on hearing Hermione's scream, and climbed out of her bed. She walked over to Hermione's bed and sat down on it, putting her arm around Hermione's back and pulling her close.

"Are you alright, 'ermione?" she asked tenderly. Pulling out her wand, she used a pain reduction spell on Hermione's head to reduce the swelling and pain caused by the impact.

Meanwhile, in a room on the other side of the tower, Susan Bones bolted awake and her head received a similar blow from the shelving units. Her roommate, a girl called Cressida, a tall girl with short blonde hair and an ear for languages, awoke instantly, although unlike Mia, she shot up as Susan and Hermione had done, and whacked her head too, so forcefully she collapsed back to the bed, knocked out. Susan ignored her own pain and used a levitating spell to take Cressida to the infirmary, for certainty that she would be ok.

Madam Pomfrey and the French doctor assured Susan that Cressida would be fine, although she had done the correct thing in bringing her in for a check up. After a quick check herself, Susan was instructed to return to her quarters, and set off down the corridors towards the front tower again.

She turned the last corner, rubbing her head (the pain was still quite severe), and saw Hermione walking towards her, also tending to the bump now present on her head. Susan wondered if Hermione had also woken suddenly, and caught her attention.

"Psst! Hermione!"

Hermione instantly picked out the Hufflepuff girl, and walked over to join her.

"Hey, Susan. What are you doing out and about at this time of night?"

"Well, I had a bad dream and I woke up suddenly, and hit my head on the shelf over my bed. My roommate woke up when she heard me scream, and hit her head so hard she knocked herself out."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Aside from the bit about your roommate knocking herself out, that's exactly what happened to me. Wait... let me guess... Voldemort? Torturing me and you?"

Susan nodded; there was no need for words.

"Come on," Hermione commanded. "We need to have a chat about this." She led Susan to the outside of the building, across the courtyard and past the newly-erected biodome, and even beyond the top Quidditch field, which was at the very back of the school, to a spot behind one of the aforementioned field's watchtowers.

She used her wand to create a comfortable environment; a picnic sheet, a small fire and warm fleeces for them; their Beauxbatons robes were not particularly useful for keeping the heat in.

The Hufflepuff and the Gryffindor sat and discussed their shared experiences.

The night went on; the hours went by and the two became aware of the importance of what was happening.

By three o' clock, they had both fallen asleep again, still on the picnic sheet, but with a much better understanding of the entire situation that had presented itself, in Hermione's letter.