Year Seven:Blindsided

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or places they belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling: It is her world I just play in it.

Chapter 19- Rescue From Above


Severus Snape took the teacher’s exit at the front and side of the Great Hall after Christmas Dinner feeling quite smug. It was not every day that one of his plans went so smoothly, so seamlessly. The expression on his lips might have looked, were it on any other face, to be a smile. However, the middle-aged man’s pallid visage would have resembled an accusatory and malign smirk of contempt, were anyone to see at that particular moment.


In a way it was, a smirk that is. He had for the first time in his life managed to have something go his way. There was a sense of satisfaction in this that felt to Severus like a drug. He had to have more success; he had to have Hermione again. He would have to concoct a way in which to meet with her on several occasions per week as Draco, as well as finding a way to keep that vicious little upstart away from Hermione when she was with him. It was a good thing that Pansy had proven to have finally found her niche, in the ways of intrigue; she was hopeless at all other things it seemed.


Pansy practically danced back to the Slytherin common room after she’d finished her supper. This was going to be fantastic; she would have everything and everyone she’d ever wanted. Draco would soon be hers and in the mean time she’d be enjoying the sexual expertise of Severus. The sweetest piece of this intrigue would be, by far and away, the destruction of Hermione Granger. For years Pansy had dreamed of seeing that gross mudblood reduced to that proper level for someone so…common, so base.


No one would ever think of her as being so intelligent after she stepped into the trap that Pansy was waiting to spring on her. Once sprung it would be painfully obvious to everyone, but not until that time. This would be Pansy’s masterpiece, her life’s work. Infamy was the goal of every dark witch or wizard, and with this plot, properly executed, she would secure her place in Wizarding History.


‘Torture,’ the very thought gave Pansy an exhilarating chill running the length of her spine. ‘Slow and painful, for that one. Then when she is broken I’ll give her to my sister. Yes, that would be great! Poinsettia would enjoy that, I wonder if I could finish it for her Birthday? We shall see.’ She smirked and skipped the rest of the way to her common room in wicked contemplation of her plans.


“NNNOOO!!” Draco screamed as he watched in horror as his beloved Hermione stepped form the ledge of the Astronomy Tower and into the abyss of black sky. For an instant he was paralyzed with fear, it seemed that he was not at all in control of his limbs. In his mind he’d already had her down from that perilous position and wrapped tightly in his arms. Finally, after what felt to Draco to be an eternity, his feet began moving toward where she’d been standing only moments earlier. His right hand, his wand hand, flew into position as he made that last leaping step to the ledge…


Hermione was in a state of panic, what could she possibly have been thinking only an instant ago that had made her want to end everything? All of her problems seemed so small, so insignificant to her now. She’d known since the end of her fourth year that the War would not end before she became a part of it. She knew that there would be casualties, both of friends and enemies.


So why had it come as such a shock to her to have visions that confirmed this? Was the pain she felt to accompany them so unbearable that she couldn’t live through it a second time? No, certainly not. And there was no sense in mourning those that were not yet lost.


She was three quarters of the way to the ground before she realized that the only truly insurmountable thing she had to deal with was that she’d just thrown herself off of the tallest tower in the entire castle. She held her breath and wished only for a quick death once she hit the ground…


“Wingardium Leviosa!” Draco shouted with all of the feeling he could muster pointing over the edge of the Astronomy Tower at the still plummeting form of Hermione. He knew that it would have to be strong and heartfelt if he meant to catch something so large as a person from that distance…


The air rushing past Hermione’s ears made it impossible for her to hear the cry of the spell that saved her. It was surreal. One second she was hoping for a quick death and praying for a rescue that she knew wouldn’t come in time, but it had. She was feeling oddly weightless as she hovered in midair, and slowly ascended the distance to the spot where she’d jumped.


He was struck dumb to see Draco at the top of the tower looking worried and more than a little exhausted. She stepped onto firm stone and was not at all surprised to find that within seconds both she and Draco had fallen to their knees from the strain of what they’d just experienced. Wishing for death now seemed so ridiculous, so stupid now that she knew what it meant. She did not want to think about how close she’d come to having her own ill wish granted her.


Draco took a considerable number of deep breaths before he opened his eyes and raised his head to have a look at Hermione. His expression spoke not of ire or disparagement, but of solicitude.


Hermione was relived that he was not angry with her for this, whatever-it-was. His deep level of concern made her feel even worse for what she’d very nearly succeeded in doing. She could not believe that she’d not considered what the loss of her would do to him. It would have been unfair to say the least. The look of pain from behind those sapphire eyes sent a wave of guilt over her that turned her stomach and threatened to reacquaint her with the contents of her meager supper. Her face flushed crimson and hot as he extended his hands to her in a gesture that clearly said, “I need to hold you.”


When she found that she once again had some minute amount of strength in her legs she crawled to his side and wound herself deeply into his embrace. Draco responded with a tight clasp of his arms around her midriff. He appeared to understand that this was not the time, nor the place to speak of what had occurred.


The couple lay locked in a tight embrace trembling until the first hint of false dawn sent the mists of night scrambling for the cover of the shadows as brilliant streaks of orange and red nipped at their heels. Draco was the first to stir from the statuesque pose in which the two had been frozen. He took the still exhausted form of Hermione back to her bedchamber. Her eyelids fluttered as he placed her gently down upon the bed and removed her robes. He placed his hand on her forehead and pulled back in shock; how could anyone so cold possibly have a temperature?


Hermione moaned and her eyes focused for a split second on Draco’s retreating back, “Draco,” she managed to utter weakly. He spun on his heels and practically flew to her side, relieved that she was showing some signs of consciousness at last. He laid a velvety kiss on her forehead and explained that he was going to get a potion from Madam Pomfrey to relieve her fever.


“I’m cold,” she squeaked. As if in answer to her Crookshanks leapt onto the bed and burrowed himself under the covers to keep Hermione both comfortable and warm until Draco returned from his trip to the Hospital Wing. Draco was as satisfied with this arrangement as he could have hoped to be. Crookshanks had proven on several occasions to be more useful than most people that Draco had encountered in his life.


A bare instant after the blonde wizard had closed the door to her room Hermione was accosted by another vision of the future:


She sat up in an unfamiliar bed in an equally unfamiliar room, which after a few moments she began to recognize as some sort of ward, in a hospital perhaps? She must be in St. Mungo’s. This suspicion was confirmed moments later by a Medi-Witch wearing bright green robes.


“Hermione! I’m so glad to see that you’ve woken up. You’ve had us all in right state these weeks. It would have made us sad indeed if we couldn’t save one of the ‘Heroes of the Great War’.”


Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing, she felt sick at the stomach to be referred to as a hero. It was not a title that she was prepared to wear for the rest of her life. She bit back a harsh remark; the witch had not seen the horrors of the battlefield, she did not know the cost in lives on more that a purely intellectual level.


There was something familiar about the witch who stood at the foot of Hermione’s bed, she cursed herself for not being able to place the proper name to the face with the ease she should have. She stared at the young woman with long dark curly locks that couldn’t quite be contained by the green ribbon that was tied amongst them. “Penelope?” She said as soon as she realized the identity of the healer.


“Good, some of the staff were worried that you wouldn’t be able to recognize anyone or speak again, but I told them that they were wrong. I said, ‘That is because you don’t know Hermione. She would never give up so easily.’ You absolutely need to hear about the strange things happening in the world of music…”


It was reassuring to hear a friendly voice, one that belonged to someone who believed in her. Hermione actually cracked a smile as Penelope read her the latest stories in the Entertainment section of The Daily Prophet. She would have been happy to do it herself, but as she hadn’t the strength yet to lift the paper it was an acceptable alternative. She looked down at her feet under the covers and Penelope sensed the sudden change of mood in Hermione.


“What is it? Is there something that I can get you?”


Hermione shook her head and was a bit astonished to find that the familiar feeling of her hair rubbing against her neck and shoulders was absent. Her hand moved to her head to find that her once long and flowing tresses had been cut short. The shock must have shown, because Penny smiled sheepishly and said, “Sorry, we do that to all our comatose patients, it’s one less thing to worry about. Let me put it right,” she raised her wand and muttered an incantation under her breath. Hermione soon found that it was as though her hair had never been cut.


“Thanks,” Hermione said numbly. “I have to ask you about some things or rather some people.”


“Alright, I’ll tell you what I know. Harry is here too. He vanquished Voldemort, but was struck by the spell of a desperate Death Eater afterwards. Neville came in too…”


An alarm sounded in the adjacent wing and Penny had to attend to the emergency, she vanished in to the hallway. Hermione’s eyes filled with tears, ‘Where is Draco?’ she thought.


“Where is Draco?” she muttered aloud as he reentered the bedchamber. She could not tell how long he’d been gone, for the fever had warped her sense of time. He gazed upon her with increasing concern in those sparkling eyes, today a deep stormy blue.


“I’m right here, Duckling.” He slipped off his shoes and robes and climbed into the bed to lay beside her. Draco picked from the nightstand a small bottle. He uncorked it and pressed it to her lips.


Hermione nearly choked on the bitter and cold liquid that slid down her throat. The bad taste was soon eclipsed by the feeling that the potion was burning her from the inside out. After a couple of deep breaths she began to come to her senses. Within five minutes her fever had subsided and she pushed herself up onto her elbows.


Draco was amazed at how quickly the potion had worked; he’d barely had time to crack the book he’d selected to read when Hermione sat up next to him with a distressed look on her face. “How do you feel?” he asked.


“Physically, never better. I think that I had another vision, but it could have just been some kind of fever dream.” She’d realized that it was better that he didn’t know in mid sentence. She didn’t want to describe how afraid she’d been in that vision, for there was no doubt in her mind that that was what it had been. Where was Draco when she woke up (or rather would wake up) in St. Mungo’s? The back of her neck prickled. She shook it off and tried to get some real rest. The two of them lay down and were asleep within minutes.


The corridors of Hogwarts Castle came to life once more while the Head-boy and girl slept. The students were not at all pleased that the holiday had come to an end, but were quite happy to see their schoolmates again and to display their Christmas presents.


Supper that evening was a raucous affair, as were all of the meals served upon the return of the majority of the student body to Hogwarts. It was in fact so boisterous that no one seemed to notice the telltale absence of the Head-boy and Head-girl. This was all to the good since the two of them had elected to take a late private supper in their common room, away from the prying eyes of Lucius’ spies.


There was no way that those spies could see the interactions that Draco had with Hermione if such interactions never left their common room. This was going to be difficult, but he knew that love was worth fighting for, even if it occasionally required the use of a sneak attack.