The legacy of the Diary
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
9,233
Reviews:
39
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
9,233
Reviews:
39
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
St Mungos
Legacy of the diary
By Luciusfan
Chapter 15 - St Mungos
A biting wind caused drizzle to dash mercilessly into Hermione’s face as she made her way with Minerva to a spot just outside the Hogwarts grounds to disapparate. She had expected to be able to floo to the hospital, but Minerva had explained that they would get so dirty flooing that it was a better idea to apparate, considering they would be visiting a patient in ‘intensive wizard care’.
In a few seconds they stood at the entrance to St Mungos and made their way quickly through the jostling crowds to a small ward holding only four beds. Hermione stood looking at her new surroundings while Minerva went over to consult with the ward witch. She returned to Hermione in less than a minute, “He’s over there – by the window.” They made their way down the ward to a curtained off bed and Hermione nervously peered through the curtains.
Harry lay motionless on the bed, alabaster white skin punctuated only by a red angry scar on his forehead. His bones had all been mended but he slept on. He looked so serene, like nothing in the world mattered. Hermione had never seen him like this. As long as she could remember he had always been worrying about something. She was almost afraid to go any closer to him.
A rustling of the curtain behind her brought Hermione out of her trance as the ward witch brought a chair over to Harry’s bed-side and motioned for her to sit down. “What should I do?” She asked hesitantly.
“Just talk to him dear.” The witch looked at her sympathetically.
“Will he be able to hear me?” Hermione looked uncertainly at the witch.
“I really don’t know, dear, possibly not, but it can’t hurt. You could read to him too if you want, it may help to bring him back.” She smiled and left, drawing the curtain behind her.
Minerva laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure things will be fine, dear. I’ll leave you to it for a bit.” Minerva left Hermione sitting in the chair. She reached for Harry’s hand and took it gingerly between her own hands. Then, Hermione began to talk.
~~~xx~~~
For the next two weeks, Hermione immersed herself completely in her teaching, spending all of her leisure time at St Mungos by Harry’s bedside. She held his hand, talked to him about her day, read from quidditch books and even the Quibbler, but Harry remained deeply unconscious and Hermione began to wonder if she’d ever talk to her friend properly again. She saw several professors and many of her old friends by Harry’s bedside as they came to visit. She made sure, however, that she was never at St Mungos at the same time as Severus, who had been to visit Harry four times. Was he genuinely concerned or just feeling guilty? No, it wasn’t guilt, she was fairly sure of that and also felt sure that it was Lucius who had been Harry’s attacker. She did not discuss her suspicions with anyone and was relieved that she had had no cause to speak to Lucius.
~~~xx~~~
It was a Saturday, exactly two weeks after the accident when Hermione heard from Lucius again. She had returned from an afternoon visit to St Mungos to find an eagle owl sheltering on her window ledge. The sky outside was stormy and the bird looked soaked through.
She rekindled the fire in the grate with her wand then crossed to the window letting the bedraggled bird in to allow it some warmth and comfort. However, as she opened the window the bird tugged at a leather thong on it’s leg, releasing a roll of parchment. It fluffed it’s feathers momentarily then flew off into the darkening, stormy September sky.
Tentatively, Hermione unrolled the letter – she thought she recognised the eagle owl and was a little apprehensive as she began to read.
My Dearest Hermione,
I have waited these interminable two weeks before writing to you as I know that recent tragic events will have hit you hard.
I cannot wait any longer ~ I have to see you ~ I have to talk to you.
Please owl me to arrange a meeting at a time and place of your choosing.
Awaiting your reply.
Yours,
Lucius
p.s. I hope you liked the roses
Arrogant bastard – he thought he could kill her best friend then jump straight back into bed with her. She crumpled up the parchment and threw it onto the fire. What did he want to do? Confess? That was hardly Malfoy style!
She did however notice his post script and felt bad that she had accused Severus of sending the second basket of roses. Then she inanely giggled, remembering the sight of Severus covered in water and blooms, she would have to speak to him. Her heart sank again – she couldn’t bring herself to speak to Severus, not just yet.
~~~xx~~~
Over the next two weeks, three more rolls of parchment arrived by eagle owl. Hermione dispatched them all, unread, into the fire. It had to be said, Lucius Malfoy was nothing if not persistent. But she had to maintain this loathing of him. It was the only thing stopping her from rushing to his arms for comfort. Comfort and more. What she couldn’t understand though was why after what he had done to Harry, she still felt drawn to him? She was like a moth to a candle flame. More like a fly to a spider’s web she thought morbidly.
~~~xx~~~
It was now nearly five weeks since Harry had fallen and the witches at St Mungos were no longer as optimistic about his recovery as they had been. Hermione sat on the edge of her bed wondering about Harry, her mind kept bringing her round to Lucius – it had done that a lot lately! She realised that in spite of herself she couldn’t think of anything but Lucius Malfoy.
Everything these days reminded her of him. When she saw a student with pure blonde hair, she wanted to reach out and touch it. When she saw depictions of Slytherin snakes she imagined his silver topped cane, cold against her skin. She stared down at the floor trying to clear images from her mind and instead focus on Harry and what she could do to help him – maybe a potion – that was her field of expertise after all, or do something to prove that Lucius was the wizard responsible.
She stared into the patterned rug in the middle of the floor – it was so like the long waistcoat she had seen Lucius wear. Deliberately she flicked her eyes away from the rug to the flagstones to the side of it, chastising herself for her lack of control. Instantly, though the smooth slate grey stone made her think of Lucius’ eyes, and she found herself gazing into an imagined face.
OH GODS! STOP IT!!
Should she owl him? Meet him to talk about things? Maybe hearing his sneering voice would get her over this infatuation. No! She was sure he’d had something to do with the accident and it wasn’t fair on Harry to be fraternising with him at all.
She began to regret having burnt his letters – maybe they had held important information about what had happened. Maybe it wasn’t him after all? Oh!
Hermione could feel her brain going in circles and lay back onto her bed. She could feel every muscle in her whole body ache as she relaxed back into the pillows. She had been neglecting herself just lately, splitting her time between teaching and sitting at Harry’s bedside. Waiting and watching for any signs of recovery or improvement.
She hadn’t even eaten properly some days – rushing off to St Mungos straight after lessons. It was time to look after herself for a bit she decided. A hot bath maybe or a quick muscle rub? She reached over to her bedside table and pulled the drawer open. She felt around until her hand closed on a soft velvet ribbon wound round a small bottle. Closing the drawer she lay back down, unwinding the ribbon and balancing the bottle on her chest. She focused her attention on the long black ribbon. She ran it under her nose, closing her eyes. She could feel the soft velvet tickle her nose and the heady fragrance fill her senses – it was pure Lucius Malfoy. She sighed, recognising the ache in her body and her heart that screamed for him, but her brain fought back – he was evil!
She tossed the ribbon onto the pillow beside her and reached over and put the bottle onto the top of the bedside table where her wand lay. She slid off the bed and pulled her jumper up and over her head. She unzipped the skirt and slipped it down over her hips. Next came her underwear until a small pile of clothes lay on the floor – she picked up her wand from the bedside table and with a flick and an incantation the clothes flew to the magically emptied laundry hamper. She replaced the wand, and snatched up the crystal bottle. Naked, she climbed up onto the bed and sat up crosslegged considering the little bottle before her.
By Luciusfan
Chapter 15 - St Mungos
A biting wind caused drizzle to dash mercilessly into Hermione’s face as she made her way with Minerva to a spot just outside the Hogwarts grounds to disapparate. She had expected to be able to floo to the hospital, but Minerva had explained that they would get so dirty flooing that it was a better idea to apparate, considering they would be visiting a patient in ‘intensive wizard care’.
In a few seconds they stood at the entrance to St Mungos and made their way quickly through the jostling crowds to a small ward holding only four beds. Hermione stood looking at her new surroundings while Minerva went over to consult with the ward witch. She returned to Hermione in less than a minute, “He’s over there – by the window.” They made their way down the ward to a curtained off bed and Hermione nervously peered through the curtains.
Harry lay motionless on the bed, alabaster white skin punctuated only by a red angry scar on his forehead. His bones had all been mended but he slept on. He looked so serene, like nothing in the world mattered. Hermione had never seen him like this. As long as she could remember he had always been worrying about something. She was almost afraid to go any closer to him.
A rustling of the curtain behind her brought Hermione out of her trance as the ward witch brought a chair over to Harry’s bed-side and motioned for her to sit down. “What should I do?” She asked hesitantly.
“Just talk to him dear.” The witch looked at her sympathetically.
“Will he be able to hear me?” Hermione looked uncertainly at the witch.
“I really don’t know, dear, possibly not, but it can’t hurt. You could read to him too if you want, it may help to bring him back.” She smiled and left, drawing the curtain behind her.
Minerva laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure things will be fine, dear. I’ll leave you to it for a bit.” Minerva left Hermione sitting in the chair. She reached for Harry’s hand and took it gingerly between her own hands. Then, Hermione began to talk.
~~~xx~~~
For the next two weeks, Hermione immersed herself completely in her teaching, spending all of her leisure time at St Mungos by Harry’s bedside. She held his hand, talked to him about her day, read from quidditch books and even the Quibbler, but Harry remained deeply unconscious and Hermione began to wonder if she’d ever talk to her friend properly again. She saw several professors and many of her old friends by Harry’s bedside as they came to visit. She made sure, however, that she was never at St Mungos at the same time as Severus, who had been to visit Harry four times. Was he genuinely concerned or just feeling guilty? No, it wasn’t guilt, she was fairly sure of that and also felt sure that it was Lucius who had been Harry’s attacker. She did not discuss her suspicions with anyone and was relieved that she had had no cause to speak to Lucius.
~~~xx~~~
It was a Saturday, exactly two weeks after the accident when Hermione heard from Lucius again. She had returned from an afternoon visit to St Mungos to find an eagle owl sheltering on her window ledge. The sky outside was stormy and the bird looked soaked through.
She rekindled the fire in the grate with her wand then crossed to the window letting the bedraggled bird in to allow it some warmth and comfort. However, as she opened the window the bird tugged at a leather thong on it’s leg, releasing a roll of parchment. It fluffed it’s feathers momentarily then flew off into the darkening, stormy September sky.
Tentatively, Hermione unrolled the letter – she thought she recognised the eagle owl and was a little apprehensive as she began to read.
My Dearest Hermione,
I have waited these interminable two weeks before writing to you as I know that recent tragic events will have hit you hard.
I cannot wait any longer ~ I have to see you ~ I have to talk to you.
Please owl me to arrange a meeting at a time and place of your choosing.
Awaiting your reply.
Yours,
Lucius
p.s. I hope you liked the roses
Arrogant bastard – he thought he could kill her best friend then jump straight back into bed with her. She crumpled up the parchment and threw it onto the fire. What did he want to do? Confess? That was hardly Malfoy style!
She did however notice his post script and felt bad that she had accused Severus of sending the second basket of roses. Then she inanely giggled, remembering the sight of Severus covered in water and blooms, she would have to speak to him. Her heart sank again – she couldn’t bring herself to speak to Severus, not just yet.
~~~xx~~~
Over the next two weeks, three more rolls of parchment arrived by eagle owl. Hermione dispatched them all, unread, into the fire. It had to be said, Lucius Malfoy was nothing if not persistent. But she had to maintain this loathing of him. It was the only thing stopping her from rushing to his arms for comfort. Comfort and more. What she couldn’t understand though was why after what he had done to Harry, she still felt drawn to him? She was like a moth to a candle flame. More like a fly to a spider’s web she thought morbidly.
~~~xx~~~
It was now nearly five weeks since Harry had fallen and the witches at St Mungos were no longer as optimistic about his recovery as they had been. Hermione sat on the edge of her bed wondering about Harry, her mind kept bringing her round to Lucius – it had done that a lot lately! She realised that in spite of herself she couldn’t think of anything but Lucius Malfoy.
Everything these days reminded her of him. When she saw a student with pure blonde hair, she wanted to reach out and touch it. When she saw depictions of Slytherin snakes she imagined his silver topped cane, cold against her skin. She stared down at the floor trying to clear images from her mind and instead focus on Harry and what she could do to help him – maybe a potion – that was her field of expertise after all, or do something to prove that Lucius was the wizard responsible.
She stared into the patterned rug in the middle of the floor – it was so like the long waistcoat she had seen Lucius wear. Deliberately she flicked her eyes away from the rug to the flagstones to the side of it, chastising herself for her lack of control. Instantly, though the smooth slate grey stone made her think of Lucius’ eyes, and she found herself gazing into an imagined face.
OH GODS! STOP IT!!
Should she owl him? Meet him to talk about things? Maybe hearing his sneering voice would get her over this infatuation. No! She was sure he’d had something to do with the accident and it wasn’t fair on Harry to be fraternising with him at all.
She began to regret having burnt his letters – maybe they had held important information about what had happened. Maybe it wasn’t him after all? Oh!
Hermione could feel her brain going in circles and lay back onto her bed. She could feel every muscle in her whole body ache as she relaxed back into the pillows. She had been neglecting herself just lately, splitting her time between teaching and sitting at Harry’s bedside. Waiting and watching for any signs of recovery or improvement.
She hadn’t even eaten properly some days – rushing off to St Mungos straight after lessons. It was time to look after herself for a bit she decided. A hot bath maybe or a quick muscle rub? She reached over to her bedside table and pulled the drawer open. She felt around until her hand closed on a soft velvet ribbon wound round a small bottle. Closing the drawer she lay back down, unwinding the ribbon and balancing the bottle on her chest. She focused her attention on the long black ribbon. She ran it under her nose, closing her eyes. She could feel the soft velvet tickle her nose and the heady fragrance fill her senses – it was pure Lucius Malfoy. She sighed, recognising the ache in her body and her heart that screamed for him, but her brain fought back – he was evil!
She tossed the ribbon onto the pillow beside her and reached over and put the bottle onto the top of the bedside table where her wand lay. She slid off the bed and pulled her jumper up and over her head. She unzipped the skirt and slipped it down over her hips. Next came her underwear until a small pile of clothes lay on the floor – she picked up her wand from the bedside table and with a flick and an incantation the clothes flew to the magically emptied laundry hamper. She replaced the wand, and snatched up the crystal bottle. Naked, she climbed up onto the bed and sat up crosslegged considering the little bottle before her.