Drabble This, Drabble That
The vomit in the porcelain bowl of the toilet seemed to smirk at her in harsh triumph and Hermione snarled viciously, lashing out at the level that would send it rushing away. She watched it go with a smirk then sighed, leaning her elbows on the edge of the bowl and dropping her head into her hands.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered in a frightened little voice. Her eyes quickly closed in response to the pain that followed that confession.
She truly did not know what to do with herself or the new situation she had been dropped into unceremoniously. It had been barely three years since her graduation from Hogwarts but she had not set foot outside the school grounds since that day. Muggleborn’s and Halfblood’s had been Voldemort’s targets since the beginning of her seventh year and after her parents murder on graduation day it had been deemed too dangerous for her - and anyone like her - to leave the protection of Hogwarts.
Few of the graduating students had listened and she had to count her murdered classmates on both hands and two toes…no, three now with Seamus Finnegan’s murder two weeks ago.
Moral in the wizarding world had reached an all time low and many had given up, determining that Voldemort would control England in a matter of months. She had begun to give in as well until that day two months ago.
The day that the boy who had been one of her best friend’s had been abruptly thrust back into her life.
Harry had been returned nearly four years after his disappearance hours after their arrival in Hogwarts for their seventh year…but he wasn’t the Harry she remembered.
He was…different.
They had been forced to constrain him the second day when he had viciously attacked and killed a house-elf. A magical barrier had been cast around him the next day when he killed two more - entirely without a wand.
Since then he had been a snarling, animalistic heap on the constraining bed - a beast trapped in a man’s body.
It broke her heart to look at the man that her best friend had become and see nothing but an animal staring at her out of those beautiful emerald eyes. Eyes that she could only hope one day would look on her again with friendly love and care.
And maybe more if she believed Ron. She hadn’t spoken to him since they’d broken up a year after graduation - and not for want of trying. They had both tried so hard to make the relationship work but had failed miserably. She had been determined to keep up the search for Harry that the Ministry had abandoned after their graduation…he had just wanted to forget and move on with his life.
When he had accused her of loving Harry more than him, she’d slapped him. After that things hadn’t been the same.
And she still didn’t know how to choose between the two.
Ron she had fallen in love with sometime during their third year - why she still didn’t know and didn’t really care to.
Harry…Harry she had loved like a brother, only realizing it truly when he vanished from her life without a word or a trace. She had felt lost without him.
And even though he lay in a bed just outside the bathroom she currently crouched on her knees in, the dust on the floor clinging to her dark skirt, she still felt lost. Because it wasn’t Harry lying out there.
It wasn’t.
Sighing, she levered herself to her feet, reaching out to grab the hand towel hanging from a hook to wipe her mouth. As she tossed it over to the basket in the corner for the house-elves to collect later for washing, she turned her eyes to the reflection in the mirror.
Her wild, bushy hair had long since tamed itself down and now fell in long brown and honey colored waves across her shoulders. Brown eyes still gleamed with intelligence but the innocence and happiness that had once been in them had been shattered. Dark circles gleaming from underneath those eyes and marred what was a face that was beautiful in it’s plainness.
Turning away from the mirror before she could scrutinize any further, she grabbed the brass doorknob and twisted it as she pulled the door open. She crossed from the bathroom in the private hospital wing room back to the bed were Harry lay lightly dozing after his earlier explosion.
He had nearly died - nearly given up Madam Pomfrey had said later when she examined him.
But she had pulled him back.
By calling his name.
She looked at his face, brown eyes taking in every plane and groove in it in all their intricacy. There were lines and scars were she remembered none and she wondered again what had happened to her friend before he had reappeared in her life.
Sinking into the chair she’d occupied for hours each day since he’d been constrained, she dropped her head into her hands again. A dry, body-wracking sob welled up within her and she choked on it, trying to keep it from getting free.
It was then that she heard one of the most heartbreaking sounds that had ever graced her ears during her life.
“H-H-Her-ma-my-onee?”
Her head flew up out of her hands and she stared in shock across the space that lay between her and the nearby bed. Tears welled up in her eyes in reaction to what she saw.
For the first time Harry was looking at her - really looking at her - without a trace of the animal that had consumed him lurking in his eyes.
“Her-my-ma-mmma-my-onee,” he said, struggling with the syllables in a matter than reminded her of Victor. “Her-mee…”
“I’m here,” she whispered, rising and moving cautiously over to kneel beside his bed. She smiled as she brushed damp hair back from his forehead, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the line of his most famous scar. “I’m here, Harry. You’re safe.”
Emerald eyes blinked at her and fear blossomed within them as he shook his head frantically.
“N-nawt s-s-sssayfe.”
“Harry, you’re in Hogwarts. Of course you’re safe.”
Another frantic headshake and frightened gaze that unnerved her and made her wonder what had happened to him. Dumbledore - who had been guiding the Order of the Phoenix from behind the scenes since his staged death at the end of their sixth year - had insisted that Voldemort’s agents within the school had kidnapped Harry. But Hermione couldn’t believe that.
After all, wouldn’t Voldemort have killed Harry if he had had him in his hands for four years instead of just returning him as this wreck of a man?
And what of Harry’s new animalistic nature? How could that be explained?
“Nawt sayfe,” repeated Harry, his eyes locked with hers. His left hand twitched in its restraint like he wanted to reach out and touch her, making him frown. He then craned his head to look down at it - a difficult feat since his head was charmed against rising more than three inches off his pillow and his upper body and legs had been strapped down since his last fit - and frowned before letting out a soft whimper of confusion. “Wh-wha?”
Hermione’s heart broke at the lost expression on his face and she reached out to touch his left hand. His fingers curled about hers in response and she was surprised by the roughness of them as well as the subtle strength with which he pressed hers. She turned her gaze back towards him and a small weight lifted off her shoulders as she saw the peaceful expression that had suffused his scarred face.
“Why?” she heard him whisper.
“You’ve been uncontrollable,” she replied slowly, taking care with the words she chose. “Three house-elves were killed in your first days back here. We had no other choice but to constrain you.”
“Magickawee too?”
“Yes.”
A frown took the place of his peaceful expression and Hermione could understand why. Magic had been what had changed his life, what had gotten him away from his horrid relatives for a while and had given him a better life. To have it constrained…she could not imagine what he was going through.
“Why?”
Hermione shook her head in response and replied, “Madam Pomfrey can’t explain it. Professor Dumbledore…he says that Voldemort put some kind of demon in you.”
The rough fingers tightened on hers as she spoke and she frowned, leaning forward worriedly.
“Harry? Harry, what is it? Did you remember something?”
He nodded, the barest of movements that his restraints would allow. His emerald eyes were slowly dulling and she could see him struggling to get his words out. They both knew that he was fading back behind whatever creature had replaced him since his return.
“N-nawt Vowldeemoort,” he stammered, struggling furiously with his tongue and vocal cords. “Nawt heem.”
“Who then?” she asked frantically, clutching at his hand as though that would keep him with her. She didn’t want to lose him again!
“Dombuldoor,” he murmured, eyes closing to half-mast. He turned his head slightly towards her and whispered, “Sowie ca’n stway, Hermee…”
Hermione sniffed, holding back a sob, and lifted her other hand to run through his damp hair. She shook her head and leaned forward to kiss his forehead, her lips brushing softly over the lightning bolt scar.
“It’s okay,” she breathed as she watched him fade. “Just come back. Please, Harry, come back…”
His fingers released her and she slowly collapsed to the floor, silent sobs wracking her body as she felt the painful loss of him again. Tears spattered the floor beneath her as she lay there lost in grief.
“Please come back…
Harry, please come back…
Come back…”