Sanctuary

She felt dizzy.

The room was spinning and she felt like she was going to be sick. She reached out to steady herself on the bed and saw that her hands were starting to shake.

She was about to cry out for help when her vision became blurry, the room giving another nauseating spin. Her knees buckled and gave, making her sink to the floor. "Shite." She clutched her stomach and was sick all over the linoleum floor of the Grey Box.

Desperately trying to control the nausea, she struggled to take deep breaths, but that turned into hyperventilation. Her vision started to go black and her ears plugged--sure signs that she was about to faint. The last thing she saw before she passed out was the hem of a white robe running toward her.

*~*~*~*

"Get her to the Emergency Ward, quickly!"

"Yes, sir."

The Healer assistant levitated the unconscious girl out of the psychiatric ward and into one of the emergency ward rooms to be examined.

"Patient name?" Healer Johnson, who was one of the Healers on the EW, took over and ran his wand over her to check her breathing, heart rate, brain activity, and magic level.

"Hermione Granger," the Healer assistant told Johnson.

"Thank you," said Johnson, "that will be all." The Healer assistant nodded and left Johnson to his work.

Her breathing was shallow which affected her heart rate and cerebral function. Not enough oxygen was reaching her heart and brain, so he had to perform an oxygius on her. Her magic level was stable--which was good because if a wizard's magic level was too low, he could become comatose.

Another Healer entered the room. "Status?" he asked. Healer McBride, who was sent from the Intoxication Ward, was in his early fifties and was dedicated to his job. Hermione Granger had become somewhat of a celebrity at St. Mungo's, so when he got the call from the EW he had been more that happy to see what he could do for the poor girl.

"Breathing and heart rates stabilizing, sir," Johnson told the other Healer. "Cerebral function maintained, as is magic level."

"Good," said McBride. "What are her symptoms?"

"Cold sweat, clammy hands, convulsions, vomiting."

McBride gave a small 'hmm.' Symptoms all pointed toward food poisoning. "Any allergies?"

Johnson shook his head. "Not that we know of, sir."

McBride nodded. "I want some tests run. See if you find any substances in her blood stream."

"Yes, sir." Johnson placed the tip of his wand against the girl's wrist and muttered, "Demunstratum." Light began to emanate from the tip and spread throughout the whole wand. When the entire wand glowed, Johnson removed it from the girl's wrist and placed it on a piece of parchment. The light that made the wand glow began to transfer onto the parchment, leaving a toxicology report behind. Going through the report, Johnson spotted something extremely disturbing.

"Sir," he told McBride. "We have a problem."

*~*~*~*

"What is it? Ron, what's happened?" As both boys dashed out of the room, Harry's blood turned to ice.

"I dunno. Mum didn't tell me, she just said to come collect you and meet her in the kitchen," the other boy panted. He'd been in the living room by the fire when his mum had rushed into the room, anxiety written all over her face. Ron didn't think his heart had ever beaten as fast as it did when she said, "Ron! Go and collect Harry. It's Hermione!"

They were about to go down the flight of stairs when Malfoy saw them from his room. Just when the reached the landing, he walked over to them and blocked their way. "What's going on?"

"None of your business; now get out of the bloody way!" Ron yelled. Malfoy narrowed his eyes and conceded... but not without following the other two down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley was waiting for them near the fireplace, Floo Powder in hand. "Quickly now, there's not much time!"

Harry and Ron immediately went into the fireplace, and were surprised when Malfoy joined them. Harry looked at him with raised eyebrows, and Ron fixed him with a glare. The Slytherin merely shrugged and said, "I'm bored."

Ron opened his mouth to tell him off, but Harry elbowed him in the ribs. "Not now! We haven't the time!" He reached for the powder and the other two did the same. As the three of them chorused, "St. Mungo's," Harry couldn't help but think that somehow this was all his fault.

*~*~*~*

When they stumbled into the large fireplace in the main lobby of the hospital, Harry noticed that the clock on one of the walls said that it was a quarter to midnight. He shook his head and headed for the front desk.

The receptionist was lazily flipping through the latest issue of Witch Weekly when they reached the desk. "May I help you?" she asked without bothering to look up from the article.

"We need to see Hermione Granger," Ron told her.

"I'm sorry, visiting hours are over," she said. Harry had to fight back the urge to rip the blasted magazine from the chit's hands and hurl it at the wall.

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy stepped forward and said, "Miss--" Malfoy peered at the witch's name tag "--Wentworth, do you really wish for your superiors to hear that you refused entrance to Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter?"

The witch shot her head up and her eyes widened. "M-mr. Malfoy, I do apologize--I didn't realize..."

Malfoy chuckled and waved a hand dismissively. "Not to worry. But we really need to see Hermione Granger."

The witch bolted out of her seat and rounded the desk. "Yes, of course; follow me please. We'll take a shortcut."

Ron shot Malfoy a look. "Farce."

Malfoy shook his head. "Charming," he corrected.

She led them through a corridor that held the Healers' offices, and through a door that needed to have a number key punched in to open. A few steps ahead they used a lift to carry them to the fourth floor. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally reached a corridor that had INTOXICATION WARD labeled overhead.

"She's in room thirty-four," the witch told them. The boys said their thanks and left to find the room.

The corridor was dark and eerie, and it gave Ron the chills. "Do you think she's alright?"

Harry didn't respond, fearing that he'd be terribly wrong. They rounded a corner and found that the last room was number thirty-three.

"Are you bloody joking?!" Harry asked incredulously. "Where is she?"

"Potter, shut up!" Malfoy hissed. "Do you want to get thrown out of here before you get to see Granger?"

"That won't be necessary." The three boys whirled around, wands at the ready, and saw a man in a grey robe (at least it looked grey; the lack of light made it hard to decipher).

"My name is Rogan McBride," he told them. "I'm the Head of the Intoxication Ward, and am the newest addition to Ms. Granger's long list of Healers." He extended his hand and each boy shook it. "Now, Professor Dumbledore said I should be expecting you. But before I let you see Ms. Granger, I'd like to explain what happened."

He led the three boys back through the corridor and into one of the vacant rooms. He summoned four chairs and a tea cart, and beckoned them to take their seats. "Tea?" he asked politely, but all of them refused. Deciding against a cup for himself, he put his elbows on the armrests of the chair and interlaced his fingers. "Ms. Granger was found unconscious in her room at nine o' clock this evening." He paused when Harry and Ron gasped in shock. "We immediately transferred her to the Emergency Ward where she was thoroughly examined. We found a rather disturbing substance in her blood stream, which is why she was transferred here."

"Substance?" Harry asked the Healer. "What was it?"

"Are you familiar with something called carbolic acid?" When the three boys shook their heads, he continued. "It's a chemical also known as phenol. It's a very powerful corrosive, and is, of course, toxic. After we found out what it was, we found that the amount of the chemical in Ms. Granger's system was not enough to kill her."

"How the bloody hell did she get a toxic chemical in her system?" Harry asked furiously. "Aren't you supposed to be taking care of her?"

"Mr. Potter, I assure you, we are as appalled as you are. Never in the six hundred years that this hospital has been helping the sick and injured, has anything like this happened."

"Is that supposed to make us feel better?" Harry snarled. "My best friend was poisoned and all you can say is that you're appalled?"

"Potter, calm down" Malfoy ordered. "Let the man explain. I'm sure he's working on something to make her well again." He gave the Healer a steely glare. "Aren't you, Healer McBride?"

McBride nodded once in agreement. But Harry wasn't put off so easily. "I want Hermione out of here." He glared accusingly at the older wizard. "You've done nothing to help her in the weeks that she's been here."

"That, Mr. Potter," McBride told the enraged teenager, "is something you'll have to discuss with Professor Dumbledore on your own time. Now, if you are done with your tirade, may I continue?"

Malfoy nodded. "He is. Please continue."

"As I was saying: We are currently having an investigation done on the matter. Unfortunately, we have to consider the possibility that somebody tried to murder Ms. Granger."

Harry laughed sardonically and rose from his chair. "Really? You think so? Well, I feel secure in your abilities to state the bloody obvious!"

"Potter, for the love of Merlin, shut up!" yelled Malfoy, losing his last shred of patience.

"I will not! Don't you see?" he shot back. "She's in danger here! We have to get her out of here."

Ron tugged on Harry's sleeve and sat him down. "As much as I hate to agree with him, Harry...shut up." Harry glared mutinously at him, but remained silent.

"What treatments are you giving her?" Ron asked McBride.

"We're administering a potion to cleanse her system every two hours," he told them. "Carbolic acid, unfortunately, is very...sticky, I suppose I could say. It clings to every cell it encounters, so it's very difficult to get rid of. She'll have to stay in this ward for two more days, maximum. She was lucky, however--the chemical was diluted, and she vomited a lot of it in her room." He sighed slightly as he rose from his chair. "You may see her now, if you wish."

He led the boys out of the room and through the corridor again. Harry remembered that the corridor didn't hold Hermione's room, and was about to say so when McBride lifted his wand over the wall next to room thirty-three. To their surprise, and relief, a door with a brass number thirty-four on it appeared. McBride opened the door for them and said, "She's unconscious now. You've got twenty minutes."

Harry's heart ached a little when he saw her in her bed. She had on a white hospital gown that made her look ashen. She looked so small and fragile that he was afraid to touch her when he got close enough to. Harry was so engrossed in her, that he didn't notice how Malfoy paled at the sight of her.

Malfoy had never seen her like this. Granger was supposed to be the quintessence of female strength, and here she was--broken. It troubled him, seeing her like she was. She probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for him.

"Malfoy?" asked Harry. "What is it?" He'd looked up and seen him; seen how pale he'd gotten. The look on his face...Harry couldn't put his finger on it, but it wasn't an expression he was used to seeing on the blonde's face.

Malfoy shook his head. "Nothing. It's just odd to see her like that."

Ron moved next to her bed and took her hand in his. "Blimey," he told her. "This has not been your year."

*~*~*~*

She was awake when they visited her again the next morning. She still had the hospital gown on, but she didn't look as colorless as she did the night before. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail at the base of her neck.

She looked over at them when she noticed that they were in her room. Her blank gaze passed over Harry and Ron, but she frowned slightly when she saw Malfoy there. She cocked her head a bit to the side, looking curious as to why the Slytherin was there.

"There's a surprise," she says.

Harry looked from Hermione to Malfoy and back. "Yeah," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Really? You're not feeling nauseous or dizzy?" Ron asked her. Hermione shook her head. "Well, that's good, isn't it?"

She went back to looking out the window and ignored them. "McBride says somebody tried to kill you." Even when Harry told her that, she didn't acknowledge it.

"Aren't you worried, Granger?" She looked over at Malfoy and raised a brow. "Well? Aren't you?"

Hermione looked away from him. "They can't do anything more to me."

Harry frowned. "Of course they can, Hermione. You're not dead."

"Am I not? According to everyone in this Merlin-forsaken hospital, I'm just as good as dead." She turned to Harry, who was seated in front of her on her bed, and stared directly into his eyes. "'Poor girl,' they say, 'losing everything in a single moment.' I don't know if you really understand it, but I am dead, Harry. It's just my body that refuses to go with the rest of me."

Feeling angry at both of them--at himself for getting her into this and not being able to help, and at her for giving up on him--he grabbed her and crushed her to him. "You're not dead, you're not dead, you're not dead," he chanted over and over. "Do you hear me? You're not dead!"

He didn't notice the tears that leaked out of his eyes, or even the ones that leaked out of Ron's; but he did notice that she just sat there while he embraced her, unmoving and frigid.

*~*~*~*

After they left her, they sought out Healer McBride. He still had some questions to answer.

He was coming out of his office when they spotted him. "Healer McBride, if we may have a moment?" Malfoy asked him. They had made an unspoken agreement to let him do all the talking since Harry seemed to fly off the handle every time McBride said anything.

"Of course, gentlemen. Please," he said as he beckoned them into his office.

The office was simple enough, with its four walls lined with bookshelves and certificates, desk, and chairs. The boys seated themselves across from the Healer and Malfoy began. "We wanted to ask you a bit more about this chemical you found in Granger's blood stream."

"I'm afraid I've told you just about everything I know about the substance, gentlemen." He rose from his chair and went to one of the bookshelves to pick out a thin notebook. In it, it seemed, were a few notes the Healer had gathered on the poison. "I've learned that it is used in several different ways. It's used for the manufacturing of cauldrons--which seems a bit ironic, doesn't it? Since it's a corrosive chemical? It's also used in several dyes to make ink, and it's also used in flesh-eating slug repellant." He closed the notebook and looked at the three boys in front of him. "That is all I know. The chemical has been used for centuries in the Muggle world, but has only just begun to be used in ours; my information is very limited, I'm afraid."

Malfoy rose from his chair and offered his hand to the older wizard. "Thank you, sir."

Harry and Ron rose as well. "Thank you," they said, and followed Malfoy out the door.

"What do you make of that?" Ron asked once they arrived back at the Burrow.

"It's odd," Malfoy told him. "But there's something I don't understand."

"What's that?" asked Harry as he sat on the couch in the living room.

"Why would someone dilute the chemical if they wanted her dead?"

Ron sat on the chair opposite the couch and looked pensive. "Maybe they thought she wouldn't be able to handle the chemical, even if it was diluted."

Malfoy considered. "Yeah, maybe."

"I still think she shouldn't be there," Harry said crossly. "She's not safe."

"Ironic, isn't it?" Malfoy said as he stretched his arms above his head. "That she should be the victim of attempted murder after the War?"

"Did you see how she just stiffened when I hugged her?" Suddenly feeling very tired, he lowered his head onto his hands.

Malfoy sat down and looked at his nails. "Maybe she just didn't like being pressed--crushed, more like--against your bony chest."

Ron snorted and Harry glared at him. "What? It was funny!"

"It was not," Harry huffed. "And I don't have a bony chest."

*~*~*~*

Alone in her room once again, Hermione thought of the visit they'd paid her. She didn't know why they kept coming back. She didn't give them any indication that she wanted to see them. And now they had to go and bring him. He'd caused enough trouble during the kidnap. She didn't need any of them to come in here and disrupt her time. Didn't they understand that she wanted to be left alone?

But that was the rub. She wasn't sure she wanted to be alone anymore. When Harry had hugged her she had felt a strange tingling in her sternum. And now she sort of wished he were here to do it again, just so she could feel that tingle. She wasn't sure what it was--for all she knew it was just nausea again.

She sighed. Maybe if she ran away they'd leave her alone. She chuckled dryly--no, she'd never be able to sneak out of here; not with those guards they had outside her room. "All's well, that ends well." She scoffed. "Well, it hasn't ended well, has it?"

*~*~*~*

Ever since they had returned from St. Mungo's earlier, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that he was missing something. When McBride had listed the uses of carbolic acid, he'd heard that little pesky voice in the back of his mind telling him there was a connection he wasn't seeing. But he couldn't figure out what it was.

"What is it?" Ron asked him. They were seated at the dinner table, getting ready to eat lunch.

"I don't know," he told him truthfully, for he didn't know. "I just have this nagging feeling..."

Ron shrugged. "It'll come to you--it always does."

Harry nodded and was about to take a bite out of the sandwich that Mrs. Weasley had placed in front of him when Malfoy sat at the table with a copy of the morning Prophet. His eyes narrowed as the little voice in his head became louder and louder.

Then it hit him.

She was seated on a chair on the left corner of the room with an old copy of the Daily Prophet in her hands--well, pieces of it, anyway. She had thin strips of the paper strewn all around her feet.

"It's also used in several dyes to make ink...."

...she dropped her gaze and continued running her fingers down the thin piece of paper.

Malfoy saw him staring at the newspaper, mouth agape and frowned. "What the hell's the matter with you, Potter?"

"She did it," he whispered. He ran out of his seat and headed toward the fireplace. "St. Mungo's!" he yelled before disappearing in the green flames.

*~*~*~*

"McBride! Healer McBride!" he yelled as he ran down the corridor.

"Mr. Potter!" The receptionist from the other night ran after him. "Mr. Potter, please! You'll get me in trouble!"

"McBride!" he yelled once more, and this time, one of the doors opened and McBride stepped out.

"Mr. Potter? Wha--"

"You said carbolic acid was used in dyes to make ink, right?" Harry panted as he reached the Healer.

"Calm down, Mr. Potter, you're starting to hypervent--"

"Answer me!" he yelled. "Did you or didn't you say that carbolic acid was used in dyes to make ink?"

"Yes, I did, but what does that have to do with anything?"

Harry hung his head and said, "Then I've got a fair idea of who tried to kill Hermione."

McBride noticed that they had a fairly large audience. "Come now," he told the boy as he guided him toward his office. Once inside he locked it and placed a silencing spell over them. "Now, Mr. Potter," he said. "What are you on about?"

Harry sighed and sat in the chair McBride guided him to. "The chemical...it came from the ink of a copy of the Daily Prophet."

"That is a very serious claim you're making, Mr. Potter."

"It's true," Harry told him. "The other day, when Ron and I visited her, she had a copy of the Prophet in her room."

McBride sighed and turned away from Harry. "That doesn't necessarily mean that she tried to kill herself, Mr. Potter."

"The pieces are there, Healer." He ran a hand through his already-unruly hair. "I don't know how she did it, but..."

"How do you know she even knew that carbolic acid was used to make the ink of the Prophet?" He turned back and eyed Harry.

Harry chuckled at that. "Because even without her emotions she's still brilliant."

McBride considered this. There was only one way to find out. "Follow me."

They left his office and headed toward room thirty-four.

*~*~*~*

Hermione was braiding her hair when they stormed into the room. She hadn't expected Harry to come back so soon. He always came with a smile on his face, but not this time. He stood staring at her with an expression torn between anger and sadness.

McBride, however, looked at her blankly.

"What's going on?" she asked them.

McBride stepped forth and conjured a chair to sit in. "Ms. Granger," he said, "are you familiar with a chemical named carbolic acid?"

Harry noticed how she stiffened noticeably. She looked at him then and said the last words he wanted to hear. "Yes. Yes, I am."