Calling Dr. Granger

Calling Dr. Granger

Chapter 3

It all belongs to Rowling, except what you don’t recognize.


In the days that followed, it wasn’t only Dr. Falco who worried about Hermione’s health. Her ex-patient Gilderoy Lockhart, in an uncharacteristic fit of pique, hid in the supplies closet and refused to come out until his Hermione was returned to him whole and well. He’d gotten it into his mind that she was being overworked, and indeed she was her own slave driver. Neither Dr. Falco, nor the childish machinations of Lockhart were able to persuade Hermione to stop burning the candle at both ends.

The problem, simply put, was there were too many ways that Snape could have arrived in his current condition. They could try breaking spell after spell for a lifetime and it still might not be the right one. Hermione was exhausted and she knew that Dr. Falco would not indulge her forever. She had tried to explore the effects of Occlumency on hexes, and she had even gone to Dumbledore’s seaside retreat to interview him. No one knew if Occlumency could affect a hex or curse. If it could, well, it would be interesting to experiment. Dumbledore’s eyes had twinkled for the first time in years during the discussion with Hermione. Then he had asked about Snape’s condition, and with her answer the light died out again.

Dumbledore complained of a chest cold and thanked Hermione for visiting an old reprobate.

The hardest part was dealing with the ex-professor himself. Hermione had tried everything she could think up to try to make psychic contact again. She even studied a bit of Legilimency to see if she could project her thoughts into him. But there was nothing, it seemed, to project into.

Hermione was drinking her sixth cup of instant coffee with instant creamer, and wondering why St. Mungo’s, a Wizarding hospital for cripes sake, couldn’t pull off have real coffee and cream. She knew she was free to invade Dr. Falco’s private stash, but he only had fancy teas and Hermione had acquired a Java Monkey not long after leaving Hogwarts.

Still she was glad of the challenge of trying to solve the mystery that was Severus Snape. Being in love with a man who adored you for your mind hurt less when you were using that mind. She just feared that the continued failure of everything she tried would eventually weigh against her. She felt stressed. Very stressed.

She was halfway into another hour-long session of talking to Snape, who made a mannequin look like a chatty Kathy, when she had an inspiration.

“Withercrust, could you go get me the latest Magical Theory Monthly from the library downstairs? It has an article on Occlumency. I meant to bring it with me, but I forgot.”

Withercrust nodded politely and doddered out.

“Snape, I know you know I’m here. Your pulse goes up. Well, would you talk to me if I increased the ante?”

She unbuttoned the top of her robe. Taking his limp hand, she placed it under her jumper.

“Do you feel that? It’s my breast. Go ahead squeeze it. It won’t break. If you want me, I’m here. Come on.”

Her wand indicated that his pulse had not changed. It was increased as it usually was in her presence, but nothing more.

“Damn you, give me some sign that you’re there. Here,” she rubbed his hand on her upper thigh letting it caress her mound for a brief second. “Do you like that, Professor?” She took his finger and let it stroke her mouth. “If you like it, there’s more, but you need to give me something in return.”StilStill, nothing happened. She dropped his hand and rebuttoned her robes only seconds before Withercrust returned.

“This the one, Dolly?”

“Oh, yes. Ta, Withercrust.” Hermione smiled innocently. “Here, professor, I’m going to read you an article which I think you might enjoy.” She swallowed heavily. What she had done to him came close to ‘bothering’ a patient and she had a strong intuition, based on Dr. Falco’s philosophy of respect for patient’s rights, that she could be in big trouble if anyone ever found out about her attempted seduction. It hadn’t worked anyway, so she wasn’t sure if she should try again. Maybe Shakespearian sonnets, perhaps he was the romantic type? Right!

Close to midnight, Hermione closed another one of the books borrowed from the St. Mungo’s Medical Library. There were so many spells and yet, what if it had been a Dark Arts spell? Those were harder to come by. She laughed, wasn’t the list of possible spells and hexes and enchantments long enough already?

She looked longingly at her bed but felt restless. She knew what she needed to do to sleep. Oh, she’d hate herself in the morning, but, well, she needed it.

She dressed in the one outfit she owned for catting about and performed the glamour on herself. It would work well on a Muggle—it even might work on a Wizard if he didn’t know her, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Dressed in high heels and an expensive and stylish short, black dress with jacket, she would blend right in with all the other lonely, young professional women just looking for a good time. She walked out the door and out to her favorite Muggle pub.

Forty-five minutes later with very little time or effort spent, a strapping young Muggle, whose name she’d already forgot, was plunging into her. She grunted each time he hit her cervix, but she didn’t care since it was little price to pay for what she wanted. Soon he spent himself into her and, not even moving off of her, was snoring. She wiggled out from under him and brought the covers up over them both. For a few hours she’d have what she wanted, the smell, the warmth, the touch of another human being. She’d slumber better than if she’d taken Dreamless Sleep. And her need, for skin-to-skin contact, feeling the heartbeat of another human being pulse next to her and listening to his steady breath, would be met. She knew she’d wake long before he would and then she’d quietly leave. She might stand by him next time she was at the pub, but wearing a different glamour, he’d never know it was her.

The next morning Hermione was back in the Medical Library doing more research. She looked up to see Dr. Falco standing across from her table.

“Dr. Granger. I’ve been thinking,” said Dr.co wco wading into the subject without so much as a ‘good morning.’

Hermione wanted to put her fingers in her ears and do some humming herself. He was going to take her off the case. She knew it!

Instead he produced a copy of Magical Theory Monthly.

“Have you seen this?” he asked with a smile.

“The Occlumency article. Yes, it’s very interesting.”

His smile got a bit broader. “Ah, my dear. No, no, no. There’s an article by our very own Nick Hephasistos of the Third Floor.”

He opened to the article. Her eyes meandered over it. ‘The Pallas Blessing’ was the title of the article and Hermione didn’t know how it could have escaped her attention. She turned red and stammered, “I don’t know how I missed this. I just wasn’t—“

“It wasn’t what you were thinking of. I understand completely. Why don’t we take a little walk down there? I’m sure Dr. Nick will be up for a chat.”

Hermione walked beside him. She couldn’t believe that she had been so obsessed with curses and hexes that she’d forgotten the opposite, more forgiving side of magic.

Over the next two days, Hermione learned more ancient Greek than she ever wanted to. Oh, she was excellent at Latin, but Greek? And Dr. Nick had this way of rolling certain sounds that her tongue just couldn’t do. It was finally decided that Dr. Falco would recite the entire Blessing on his own, with Hermione simply handing him various items as required. Withercrust was also in attendance for the ceremony, but had little to do except sit, look after Snape’s body and read the latest copy of Witches Weekly.

Dr. Nick himself wasn’t in attendance. He had merely translated the scroll, which had been found in a trunk sent to him upon the death of a relative in his native Greece. He was strictly a potions man, so even though his ancient Greek was better than Falco’s he wouldn’t even try to perform the blessing. And of course, there was the small niggling question of ethics. The ex-professor of Hogwarts was in no condition to give his approval to an experimental, untried ritual. However in theory blessings, like chicken soup, couldn’t hurt. Still, since Snape had no living relatives, it was relatively easy to cut through red tape and get a rubber stamp on the treatment.

“Ready?” asked Dr. Falco, who was resplendent in his brilliant white robes embroidered in gold that brought out the gold in his eyes. Hermione felt rather drab in her all white robes, and Snape in comparison just looked awfully sallow in grass green robes. She felt a bit envious that Withercrust, not being part of the ceremony didn’t have to dress any different than his usual plaid flannel robe with a white orderly jacket over it.

Hermione nodded and rang a tiny silver bell to start the ceremony. Falco recited the blessing and Hermione, at the appropriate moments, lit incense and then candles. She sprinkled fresh spring water, which she’d just collected that morning from a very cold and high mountain in Scotland, and then she threw flower petals and buds. She anointed Snape with various sacred herbal unguents, cheerfully prepared by Dr. Nick who was tickled pink to think they’d be trying this old family recipe. An aura of power began to assemble in the room; it was like the static electricity that would build in the atmosphere before a storm. Hermione’s hair started to crackle with the energies swirling about her.

She watched in awe as Falco continued the blessing, his strong voice reverberated in the power-filled room. He seemed very much in charge of whatever was being called forth.

Hermione shook herself and concentrated. They were coming up to the end now, where the healing force was to center on Snape. A gust of wind blew up from nowhere and it was icy cold. A second gust, warm and smelling of fresh juniper and cedar, seemed to chase it around roomroom.

Falco’s voice became even clearer and louder, carrying on the breeze. Hermione had been through a lot in her short life, but she had rarely felt so invigorated during a ceremony. Her entire body was tingling as she waited for her next cue.

Snape was in the middle of having a zombie chew off his arm when he saw a small door open up out of nowhere. Although it seemed like a hundred years ago, he’d remembered a similar door that had brought him into this insane world.

Snick.

The light was dazzling and there was a wholesome smell of burnt sage and cedar. He found himself covered in fresh lavender blossoms with a wreath of laurel surrounding the waist of his revoltingly bright robe.

Emerging from the phantasmagoric landscape of his mind, he panicked and struggled to stand. His wasted and weakened muscles barely carried his weight up from the chair. Then he saw her-- his talisman, the girl who somehow was in every single dream that offered hope or solace. His mind provided information that he tried to patch together. Her touching him, when? He hadn’t actually seen her since she was student, right? He hadn’t been interested in her then. Then—when? Why the dreams about her? The erotic dreams and the domestic dreams and the lover’s dreams, which had all centered on her. He remembered her placing his hand on her privates and whispering promises in his ear.

With a roar he grabbed Hermione and crushed her wand holding hand in his. She was his and he would take her. He growled and his eyes glittered malevolently as his lips curled back in a snarl.

Dr. Falco, arms outstretched to show that he held no wand and presented no threat, slowly walked towards him. “Dear Mr. Snape. You are safe here. Now please, let go of Dr. Granger-- Hermione. You remember, Hermione, she was your student…”

He saw out of the corner of his eyes that Withercrust had his wand out and was trying to find a way to hex him without accidentally hitting the girl. He increased the pressure of his grip on her hand and pressed even harder with his other arm, forcing all the air from her lungs.

Falco lunged forward, golden eyes wide with concern for his young protégée. Just then Hermione tried to wrest her way out of his grip. Snape cursed and a bolt of light shot out of her wand, nicking Dr. Falco on the side of his neck. A geyser of brilliant red blood rhythmically spurted from his opened carotid artery. Withercrust limped over to his lover, slipping in the blood and falling down. He crawled to him and cradled the rapidly dying Medi-Wizard in his arms.

“He’s bleeding out, let go of me! LET ME GO!” Hermione struggled against him. “I need to help him.”

Witherspoon was trying to use a spell to fix the damaged artery but his hand was too palsied. He repeated the spell over and over, but the shaking of his arm simply wasn’t allowing him to the the repair.

Hermione stamped on Snape’s foot.

Witherspoon cried out, “Don’t leave us, Ty. Stay with your Cuddles, don’t go—“ as he tried again to perform the healing spell.

Snape cursed and used bruising strength against her. She watched the life leave Dr. Tyranius Falco’s eyes just before Snape Apparated them away.


A/N: I usually update more quickly; however, I find this genre very painful to write. This story is about half way done. I couldn’t do a longer version; I’d get an ulcer. Big hugs and much gratitude to: Booklvr2003, Idamae, LovethePotionBoy, Xxphenixx, Mother, DemonicAngel, ExcessivelyPerky and LittleBird.

Also, many, many thanks for the read through and handholding by Rilla and Pauline.