Keogh

~***~



Her head was pounding again the next morning, though not as fiercely as the previous night. The headache potion had not yet worn off, but it was weakening. Hermione looked at breakfast dispassionately, unable to work up an appetite at all.



“Have a bit of toast, at least. You’ve got a full day ahead of you.”



She was going to sock Percy Weasley right smack in his Head Boy nose if he didn’t leave her alone! The eldest Weasley boy was acting like the consummate mother hen. Even worse than when Ginny had waning under the power of Riddle’s diary the previous year. Still, not wishing to be yanked up to the hospital wing for another round with Madam Pomfrey, she accepted the proffered slice of toast and took a bite.



Ron grabbed another sausage, but he was also frowning at her. “You all right, ‘Mione? It’s not Snape, is it?”



“Professor Snape, Ron.” Really, she was growing weary of correcting him all the time. “And no, it has nothing to do with him. I’ve just got a bit of a headache is all.”



“Probably all the classes you’re taking. And it’s only the first weak, ‘Mione. If it’s getting to you already you’d best chuck a few before you really make yourself ill.”



Harry, wisely, said nothing. He did agree with Ron, though. Hermione could see it in his eyes. “I’m not chucking any classes. I just need to pace myself a bit better is all.” The toast settled uneasily inside her stomach. She’d feel a lot better if her head would just stop hurting! She closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples, which would explain why she didn’t notice Percy get up from his seat at the table and make his way to the head table where the professors were seated.



The Gryffindors were looking forward to their first Care of Magical Creatures class. Mainly because they wanted to support Hagrid. To that end when the others in the tower had complained that they couldn’t even open their books Hermione had shared the trick Severus had shown her. With knowing grins thrown over at the Slytherin table, some of who had their books nearby and still tied shut, they waited for the time to go.



She managed to choke down the rest of her toast and a bit of her pumpkin juice. After waiting for her stomach to stop rebelling she got up and headed to the door of the Great Hall, only to be stopped by Professor Snape and Percy Weasley.



“Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley has informed me that you are unwell. I trust you are on your way to the hospital wing.”



Hermione blinked at the potions master before shooting an angry glare at Percy. Selling a fellow Gryffindor out to a Slytherin! The nerve! “I’m not unwell, Sir. It’s just a little headache.”



Snape studied her for a moment. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Weasley. Come with me, Miss Granger.”



Percy nodded to Professor Snape and went on his way, ignoring Hermione’s displeased expression. With a heavy sigh she started to follow Severus towards the hospital wing. Only, they didn’t go to the hospital wing. Instead he lead her into an empty class room and invited her to sit down, taking the seat next to her for himself.



“Hermione, I had a talk with your Head of House yesterday morning regarding your class schedule. She informed me of the steps taken to allow you to keep such a heavy course load. While I applaud your drive and thirst for knowledge, I must voice concern over what such excessive use of a Time Turner can do to a young mind. If you are already starting to feel the strain of it then you will only find it harder as the year progresses.”



Her mouth opened slightly as she imagined Professor McGonagall demanding she hand the device over. “But, it’s not the Time Turner, Sir! I just… it’s probably just the stress of everything that’s happened over the summer. And worrying about Harry, of course. I can do this! I know I can!”



He looked unconvinced. Her heart was hammering inside her chest and the increased pulse did nothing to help her headache. “Please, Sir, just a little more time. Please? Once I get back in step with things I’m sure I’ll be fine.”



She thought he would tell her ‘no’ and demand the necklace right then and there. Her expression fell immediately into the same, doe-eyed look she used on her Dad, even though she knew Severus Snape was likely unmoved by such tactics. Still, after a long, painful silence, he gave a nod.



“I’ll give it one week, Hermione. If you do not look as though you’re turning around before this time next Tuesday then I will insist to your Head of House that your class schedule be trimmed back to something more manageable.”



She let go of a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. “Thank you, Sir.” She offered a weak smile. “I… I should be going. I’ll be late for class.”



Severus reached into his robe and pulled out a little tin. “Here, have a couple of these before you go.” He opened the lid to reveal what looked like hard, yellow candies.



“Lemon drops?”



Snape smirked. “After a fashion. I make them for the headmaster. He is an older wizard and feels the aches and pains that come with time and living through two magical wars. Still, it wouldn’t do for him to be seen as dependent on a pain relieving potion, so hiding it behind his sweet tooth was a better option.”



That was brilliant. Hermione plucked out two of the candies with a soft ‘thank you’. She popped them into her mouth before leaving the room. They really did taste just like lemon drops, which made her suspect that most of the potions he brewed for Madam Pomfrey didn’t have to taste so terrible. They were effective, too. Her headache was reduced to a barely noticeable pinprick by the time she joined the rest of the class, just in time to watch the stupefied expressions on the Slytherins when all the Gryffindors opened their books without the slightest trouble.



For a first lesson it held the promise of being a good one. Buckbeak was magnificent, if a little intimidating. And although she knew Harry had been scared out of his wits, he handled it beautifully. Did she not dislike flying she would have been jealous. As it was, she was just eager to pet one of the creatures to see if the feathers felt as silky as they looked.



An angry cry and a frightened scream snatched her attention from the hippogriff before her. Malfoy was on the ground, clutching his arm and screaming. Buckbeak was rearing up, ready to strike again. The class was thrown into chaos as Hagrid called off the hippogriff, but it was clear the damage was done. The class was dismissed as Hagrid rushed Draco up to the hospital wing.



The events during class hung like a dark cloud over their heads as the Gryffindors assembled at their table in the Great Hall for lunch. Hagrid was one of their own and they knew the Slytherins would do everything in their power to use this to their advantage. The general feeling of gloom got to be too much for Hermione and she excused herself, ignoring the boys’ complaints that she hadn’t eaten anything.



She wanted to get away to herself for a bit, but there was another class this afternoon and she knew the other girls would be in the dorm until then. She could have kicked herself when she remembered that she wasn’t necessarily bound to the same constraints. She quickly made her way up to the tower and ducked into the girls’ lavatory right off the dorms. Four hours would put her back just before Care of Magical Creatures and in a blissfully empty dorm room. It might be a slight abuse, but surely they didn’t expect her not to catch a little extra down time with all the studying she was going to have to do this year.



She made herself at home atop her bed, coming to rest on her stomach. She knew this sort of thing was not at all like her, but she’d found herself becoming more and more introspective since her parents’ had sat her down for The Talk. That’s what she was calling it at any rate. Everything about her changed after that moment, which she supposed was only natural.



She’d been furious of course, at first. She felt as though her entire life had been one big lie. But she could never stay mad at her parents. They loved her, she knew this, and had only gone along with what Kathy had wanted. That had been the part that had hurt the most; that the woman who gave birth to her not only hadn’t wanted her but also had not even wanted her to know she existed. Mum had tried to point out that the fact Kathryn had made arrangements in the event of her death was proof that the woman wasn’t without feelings for her. At the time, however, Hermione had simply been too deep in shock to wrap even her clever brain around the concept.



She flipped onto her back with a sigh, letting a foot dangle off the bed. It hit her book satchel, which brought the equations sheet back to mind. What were they all about anyway? Some kind of test? A bit of nonsense from a slipping mind? Well, the last wasn’t likely; they were too clever. Hermione rolled over to dig the paper and parchment back out and spread them open atop her bed to study them.



Three equations, each one more complex that the previous. She’d managed to work through the first two last night, but Diggory had interrupted her before she could get through the third. She pulled out her quill and nibbled the end of it absently as she looked over the paper again, frowning.



She took out another sheet of spare parchment for more room to work. Tongue trapped between her teeth she bent over the task, scratching out incorrect steps and backtracking when needing to. She filled up the scratch parchment and had to flip it over to start on the other side, all the while ignoring the pain that had returned behind her eyes with the exception of occasionally wishing she had some more of Dumbledore’s special lemon drops.



She used up all the space on the second side of the parchment and had only gotten maybe halfway through the final equation. She claimed a fresh bit of parchment to carry on, ignoring how her vision seemed to be graying about the edges and how shaky her usually neat handwriting was becoming. She took a breath and willed herself to work through the pain, unable to stop herself.



She filled up the spare parchment on both sides and still had a little more to go. Dimly, somewhere amidst the pain inside her skull, Hermione realized that there was something dreadfully wrong with the equations. It truly was some type of arithmancy, one that was compelling her to continue on even though the awareness that something was wrong was causing a part of her to scream for release. Rather than break to get more parchment, she tugged up the sleeve of her jumper to bare her other arm, ignoring the sound of her blouse ripping from the assault. She continued her scratch work on her own skin, her breathing becoming ragged.



The pain continued to build. She felt as though her head were going to explode. From far off inside her own mind she realized that her breathing was ragged because she was sobbing. She could barely feel the tears trickling down her cheeks. Only one more figure to put down and she would be done. Just one more symbol. Her hand was cramping up, her arm not wanting to move any longer. She took her free hand and gripped her wrist with it, using it to guide her quill to mark down the last figure in a shaky, barely legible mark.



And the world went black.



~***~



Minerva had answered the summons immediately, dragging Filch along with her. Miss Brown and Miss Patil were in near hysterics as it was, and their screeching was only serving to stir up the rest of the students who had returned to the tower for some quiet after lunch.



The stairs to the girls’ dorms were collapsed, a sign that boys had tried to go in. Under the circumstances she felt that was something that could be overlooked. One of her little cubs needed her. She restored the steps and hurried up into the third year girls’ room.



Minerva skidded to a halt, her breath catching in her throat. Miss Patil had Hermione Granger by the shoulders, shaking her in a vain attempt to rouse the unconscious girl while Miss Brown tried to muffle her own sobs with her hands. Her bedspread was littered with parchment and spilt ink. One sleeve of her blouse was ripped open and dark ink stood out starkly against her pale skin.



“Stand away, Miss Patil!” Minerva pulled out her wand and tried to revive the girl without the slightest bit of success. She put a hand to Hermione’s neck and found her cold as ice to the touch, though her heart still beat. Her pulse hammered rapidly as though she were in the midst of some great exertion. “We have to get her to the hospital wing, Argus. Hurry!”



The caretaker bent over and scooped up the girl, too caught up in the urgency of the moment to even get a good scowl on. He hurried from the dorm as Minerva looked at the debris on the bed. There was a piece of muggle-style lined paper with what looked like arithmancy equations written on it and what was clearly scratch work on a couple of sheets of parchment. Not stopping to think she scooped up the lot and followed the caretaker.



She heard the distressed cries of Potter and Weasley before she even reached the Common Room. “Not now, boys!” Scanning the crowd she found Percy Weasley and pointed him out. “Run up and tell Professor Vector he’s needed in the hospital wing right away. Sir Nicholas!” The ghost nodded to her in acknowledgement. “I need you to go down to the dungeons and tell Professor Snape that Miss Granger has taken ill and he can find us in the hospital wing.”



Her Gryffindors were frantic but there was little time to spare. They had no way of knowing what was wrong with Hermione until Poppy could look at her. She followed Argus though the portrait whole, all the while sending a fervent prayer up to whomever might be listening to please spare the girl.



Albus was already there when they arrived. The Headmaster helped Argus lay Hermione gently onto one of the hospital beds before both men quickly stepped back and let Poppy reach her. Dumbledore moved to Minerva’s side, confident in the mediwitch’s skills. “What did you find, Minerva?”



The witch handed him the paper and parchment. “Only this, Albus. It looks like arithmancy, but nothing she should be doing this soon. She’s only just taken her first class. I sent Percy Weasley to fetch Vector here.”



Dumbledore nodded as he frowned over the parchment. “It does appear similar to arithmancy, but not quite. I don’t think I’ve seen this type of work before.”



“It’s on muggle paper, Albus. Could she have brought it with her?”



“I believe that is the most likely answer.”



They looked up as Severus came barreling into the hospital wing. His dark eyes moved to where Hermione lay unmoving on the hospital bed. The usually pale wizard became even paler and moved towards the girl. Albus stopped him with a gentle hand to his shoulder. “Allow Poppy the space she needs, Severus.”



“What happened?”



“Miss Brown and Miss Patil found her unconscious in their dormitory. Attempts to wake have so far been unsuccessful.” The aged wizard cast a worried look towards the bed. The door opened, allowing Professor Vector and the eldest Weasley boy entry. “Ah, Victor, thank you for coming so quickly. We need your opinion on these papers.”



Severus’ eyes looked over and saw the two pieces of ink-riddled parchment. Then he saw the sheet of muggle notebook paper and drew in a sharp breath. Albus’ head turned to him. “What is it?”



“May I see that, Headmaster?” He held his hand out for the sheet of paper. Dumbledore gave it over and he let his eyes move over the script. He recognized the handwriting almost instantly. “Kathryn wrote this.”



“Miss Granger’s birth mother?” Severus nodded in confirmation. “Where would she have gotten something like this? I was under the understanding that Ms. St. James was not a witch.”



“As was I, Headmaster.”



Albus’ brow furrowed as he took back the paper and handed it to Professor Vector. “See what you can figure out for us, Victor. Miss Granger’s life may very well hang in the balance.”



Severus gravitated towards the bed, unable to turn his eyes away from the still, pale girl lying there. What the devil was Kathryn playing at? He had always remembered her as a cold woman, apparently only with him for sexual gratification or perhaps for some purpose he had not yet deciphered, but why would she feel the need to strike out from beyond the grave to attack her own flesh and blood?



“Be grateful you are already dead, Bitch, or I would do the job myself.”



Fear gripped him. Fear that this bright child he had only so recently found would be taken from him before he even had the chance to know her properly. Slowly he lowered himself onto the hospital bed next to Hermione’s, watching and waiting for some change in the girl, no matter how small.



~***~