Haunted

The next day, Hermione grudgingly met Malfoy in the drawing room, reminding herself over and over that by helping him, she was really helping herself. In the back of her mind she worried that if Malfoy was able to walk, he could go back to the Death Eaters and give them all the information he’d gathered so far. She’d noticed him sneaking around. She couldn’t see him, but she felt him moving about the house, felt that restless energy that she could empathize with. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but she knew anything important to the Order was not kept here, but at a safeguard. She didn’t even know where it was, only a select few did. Headquarters had been completely cleaned out, just in case the Blacks had found a way around Sirius’ magic and taken it from Harry. They always had a backup plan.

“If it isn’t the Goody-Two-Shoes come to save the day,” Malyfoy drawled as she picked the air for the next piece of furniture so she could make her way to the couch.

“Stuff it, Malfoy. We have to get through this and it will be a lot easier if you just keep your mouth shut while I’m working,” she snapped, running her hands over the arm of the couch and finally finding her seat. “If you could come to me that would make things a lot easier.”

“For you. But why would I want to make things easier for you?”

“Stop being a prat! Just come over here!”

“You forgot the magic word…” he taunted.

Hermione fumed. She was not going to give in to him. She said nothing and crossed her arms and legs, her foot tapping the air to some unknown beat. The silence filled the room, sinking into the cracks and crevices, enfolding the two people in its oppressive strength. They sat like that for four unbelievably tense minutes until Hermione threw up her hands in defeat and struggled over to him where she could tell he was trying not to laugh. She slapped his thigh harshly, snapping at him to behave.

“Don’t you ever fucking hit me again you Mu-,” he stopped.

“What? I didn’t quite catch that. Were you trying to say Mudblood? Go on, say it. SAY IT!” she screamed, her blood pumping through her veins. She didn’t know why he had stopped but she wished he would go on, call her a dirty, filthy, stinking Mudblood.

“Just do what you have to do and be done with it!”

Shaking with suppressed rage, she found his leg and pulled it to her, searching for the muscles Mrs. Weasley had shown her and massaging it before bending it and trying to get him to press his heel into her palm or wriggle his toes. Neither happened, but she could only hope for so much. When she’d done all the exercises for both legs, she dropped his right one roughly, causing him to curse and left in a huff, her hands thrust out in front of her to feel her way from the room.

She found her way outside and since she didn’t have her cane, moved extra cautiously. She was slightly nervous but didn’t want to go all the way back to her room for it. She had to talk her way through and when the hill sloped gently down, she crab-walked. Her heart was hammering by the time she found the dock. She was used to counting her steps now and was glad she had kept up with that along with using the cane. She scooted to the edge of the dock and dangled her feet over the side. The sun beat down on her making her sweat. Slipping her sandals off and shimmying out of her shorts and shirt, she slid into the pleasantly cool water, the contrast against the hot air exhilarating. Grinning, she took one stroke back and another forward, going back to the dock. She wished she could swim for real, but she was too nervous, she didn’t know how big the lake was and she didn’t want to get lost. Maybe when Harry and Ron came back they would swim with her. Although, she didn’t know if she could handle their constant worry. Would she ever be able to relax again?

Sighing, she dunked her head and held her breath, using the leg of the dock to keep her down. The world was muted, only the heavy sounds of the water filling her eardrums. Here was where things were simple. Here, she could stay all day, lie on the silt and relax for eternity, with no worries, no troubles. Just her and the water.

By the time Hermione climbed out of the lake her skin was pruney and the air was cooling down. She tugged her shorts and shirt on over her dripping body and made her way slowly and carefully back to the house. She missed by a few yards and had to slide along the wall until she found the door, but overall she didn’t think she’d done so badly. But she was definitely not venturing forth without her walking stick again.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Hermione jumped at the baritone voice.

“Thanks. Go on, I’m not hungry,” she answered, making her way around the end of the table, sticking her hands out for the door post to the stairs.

“You didn’t have lunch.”

“Very observant of you.”

Her toe caught the step and she stumbled. She waited for his sniggers, for the rude remark, but it never came. Wondering if he might have possibly not seen, she made her way slower up the stairs. Gods, she really hated this. Her eyes were open, but nothing. Reminding herself of the reason her eyesight was gone, she tried not to be bitter. Once safely ensconced in her room, she sagged onto the bed. Surprisingly, Crookshanks jumped up onto her lap and rubbed against her. Petting the furry creature, she noticed there was something in his mouth.

“What do you have there?” she asked, pulling at what felt like a sheaf of parchment. Crooks let it go and she ran her hands over it. It was an envelope, not parchment. Her parents. They were the only ones who sent her letters with paper anymore. She’d forced them to get an owl so they could keep in touch but she wasn’t going to force them to use a quill.

Tears stinging at the corners of her eyes, she fell back on the bed. How was she supposed to read it? Did she really have to wait until Mrs. Weasley came home on Sunday? It felt like an eternity and she knew her parents were going to freak if she didn’t send a reply letter back immediately. She always did, just to reassure them of her safety. How was she supposed to tell them that their only daughter was blind? How is she supposed to explain that by her own foolish mistakes, she would never amount to anything? They’d always pushed her so hard, supported her through everything, helped her strive for the best. And now, she’d failed them. Just like she’d failed everyone else.

Clutching the envelope to her chest she bit her lip to keep from crying out, she didn’t want Malfoy to hear her and give him more bait for his ridicule. The tears leaked out of her eyes and down the sides of her face, puddling in her thick, wavy hair. Shaking with her restrained sobs, she allowed her own pity to take over.

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Draco sat in his damnable chair and watched her through a crack in her door. He’d followed her up the stairs, for reasons best left alone. He’d watched as she’d made her way to the bed, that cat following her with something white clenched in its mouth, waiting for her to sit before jumping into her lap. She talked to it for a minute but he couldn’t hear her words. She petted the ratty animal before her hand hit the white colored parchment. He wondered where it had come from; he’d never seen parchment like that before. The envelope was smaller than normal, a little longer that it was tall. It must be some secret message from Potter. Creeping just a little closer, making sure his legs didn’t hit the wall and alert her, he waited for her to open it. But she didn’t. She just felt the envelope and her face scrunched up in pain. For a moment he worried it might have Bubotuber Pus in it, like when Pansy had sent her some. But nothing came forth and she flopped onto her back, clutching the envelope and it was then that he understood.

She couldn’t read it.

He felt pity. It was a strange sensation, one he’d felt maybe enough times to count on his hand. He couldn’t imagine not being able to see anything; it was the only thing that saved him from his monotonous life. He was able to look at the trees outside, read the books in the library. He could recall hundreds of scenes in which he’d encountered Granger with a book, she lived by them. He’d never had anything that captivated him that much, but he knew how crushed he was not being able to walk. With this chair, though, he was at least able to get around. And his was curable, so they said, whereas hers wasn’t. He’d heard Lucius discuss it once; that was the only reason he knew about the Horcruxes in the first place. When he’d seen Granger with that fucking cup in her hand on that field…fuck, she was lucky to have come out at all. He’d learned a Shield Charm from the Dark Lord himself and only that could have prevented further damage.

Draco was stuck in limbo. One part of him wanted to smash that bitch’s face in for doing this to them, the other part knew it hadn’t really been her fault; there was no way for them to have known. And she looked so wretched lying there…

Before he could do anything he would regret, he snuck back down the hall and to his dinner of stale bread and cheese.

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Breakfast was stewed over in stony silence. Neither of them attempted any sort of talk and ate their overcooked oatmeal under and iron curtain. When they finished, Hermione suggested they get his exercises done early today since it was supposed to warm up quickly. Their communication was limited to the necessary; “A little higher.” “Does that hurt?” “Can you press your heel into my palm?”. Afterwards, she without a word and shut herself up in her room, emerging only for meals of bland sandwiches.

The next day was similar and the house grew cold with their indifference. Hermione could hardly stand it though it had only been a few weeks since they’d arrived. She was getting no better at walking around, she still couldn’t figure out any way she could contribute to the Order, and she could hardly stand to be in the same room as Malfoy. She spent all her time either locked in her room or out in the pond. She still had not yet ventured from the dock, but it was safe that way.

On Thursday morning, Malfoy said something that made her skin crawl.

“I saw that letter you got. Did you…did you need help reading it?”

He was spying on her? “No, thank you. I’ll manage,” she said coldly. Then scolded herself for being so rude. He was just trying to help. But why? Did he think it was something secret? Something he could take back to his cronies?

She cleared her throat, unsure of how to proceed. “But thank you.” There, that should do it.

The silence was thick as molasses. “Er…did you want to try making dinner again tonight? Er, together?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said, a little too brightly. Why was this so hard? Hermione got along with everyone, without trying. Even the first time he’d come to them hadn’t been nearly this awkward. So why so much now?

When they finished, Hermione rose to take her plate in but felt Malfoy’s hand on hers, stilling her movement. “I’ll take it,” he said.

“Th-thank you.” Why was he being so nice? It didn’t make sense. So she asked him. “Why are you being so nice?”

She heard the clatter of dishes hitting the ceramic sink. He was quiet and she heard the movement of the air as he glided along in a chair that Mrs. Weasley explained had a permanent portable Hover Charm and he used his wand to direct it. Hermione thought this was rather clever of Mr. Weasley to have thought up and told him all about Muggle wheelchairs, much to his endless delight.

“You don’t trust me. I get that. But that doesn’t mean I want to spend the rest of my foreseeable future ignoring each other. It gets dull. We don’t have to like each other to be civil.”

Look at that, the little ferret grew up! “Alright then. We’ll shake on being civil.”

She held out her hand and it dangled in space for a few moments before his large, warm one wrapped her small one in its grasp. They pumped three times then just stood there, holding each other’s hand, not quite sure of what to do. Hermione suddenly felt breathy and light headed, her entire being focused on that one small contact. A stirring low in her belly such as she’d never felt before rose and surfaced, rendering her breathless. What was going on?

She wrenched her hand from his and stood there awkwardly, wishing she could see what his expression was of so she knew what to say next.

“Er…shall we go then? Do your exercises?” she said, for lack of anything better to say.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Malfoy led the way and she concentrated on not tripping this time. No such luck. Stubbing her sore toe (which she was certain they were now all completely black and blue), she swore and rubbed it.

“Language, Granger!” Malfoy chastised.

“Suck it, Malfoy,” she responded. He chuckled and Hermione couldn’t help but crack a smile. Why did this feel so normal? She didn’t think on it, because her rational mind would probably find some reasonable explanation and she didn’t want one; she just wanted to enjoy not hating each other to the point of distraction.

During the exercises Hermione encouraged him to try more, but to no avail. His legs continued on, not responding. She could feel his frustration rolling off him in waves.

“I know how you feel,” she said softly, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth. “I try so hard to see sometimes…you just have to keep trying, it’s all you can do. You’ll walk again, take comfort in that.”

The next time she asked him to push down she heard conviction in his voice; he was as determined as she.

“Nothing. I tell my leg to do it, but it’s like the message gets lost halfway there,” he said.

“Then focus on that message. Think about delivering it straight through your leg.”

“I’m not a bloody owl!”

“I’m trying to help!”

“Then try doing it in a more physical way! Don’t you know of any spells that might help?”

“Do you think Madam Pomfrey hasn’t tried everything? This is all in your head, Malfoy! Your thick skull is the problem!”

“Fuck you! If you hadn’t tried offing yourself with that damn Horcrux I wouldn’t be here!”

“Then you should have just let me die and spared me the pain of having to live life as a failure and forcing you to pretend you’re on our side so we can protect your pathetic arse until it’s over!” she screamed, dropping his leg and leaving as fast as her searching arms and hesitant legs would allow her. Being blind certainly didn’t make for dramatic exits.

Hermione hurried down to the dock, cane-less once more. It took her longer to find it this time, having overshot to the left and finding the water first. But she located the dock and crawled along its surface, hurriedly shedding her clothes, craving the calm the water provided. Slipping into the refreshing depths, she was thankful that the hot day at least had a good breeze. She dunked herself several times, cooling her skin and her temper which was running amok with her again. She needed to get control of herself. She was falling apart, something she never let happen. She was the glue that held everyone together, she had to be string, shake it off. What happened to her was unfortunate, but it was time to move past all this. She was better than this, this wasn’t her, she thought, as she floated up onto her back, allowing the water to rock and soothe her. The normal Hermione Granger would not be picking fights with Malfoy or acting so Bi-Polar towards him. One minute she was reaching out, the next she was lashing out. She didn’t know whether to hit the fucker or to help him. She supposed it was because she still didn’t know whether to trust him or not. True, she should be giving him some slack since he had saved her life…but it was hard to forget the dilemma they’d all gone through when he’d left last time, the weeks they’d spent spying and taking unnecessary risks to make sure their information hadn’t been leaked, the months they’d spent on their toes, the years Harry had blamed himself for trusting the bastard and giving him the chance to run away. She supposed they’d all felt a little guilty and foolish that they’d let him trick them so thoroughly. Hermione had even started to think she’d liked him; they’d gotten along alright for those weeks. It had hurt her deeper than she cared to admit when he’d left. She knew it shouldn’t, but it almost felt like a personal betrayal. She’d worked so hard to get him in, to get him comfortable, to get the others to trust him. And just as everything was coming together, he’d gone, without a word, to leave them on their guard. Anything could have happened. He could have told the Death Eaters anything. Just because they hadn’t acted on it yet, didn’t mean they didn’t know. They could be holding out for something…

She fluttered her arms a bit in the cool water, loving the contrast between the hot sun on her face and the cold currents beneath her. She rolled over and held her breath, floating while her busy mind ran ragged, thinking things over and over like she was best at. No one could over-think a problem like Hermione Jean Granger.

Time took off while she flipped over and over, her mind on fast forward. When she finally felt she had come to some sort of inner conclusion, she dropped her weary legs and lifted her face to the sun. It was starting to sink. Her skin burned from too much exposure to the sun but she was sure Mrs. Wealsey had a potion that would help. Ohhh, it hurt. She shook her head at her lackadaisical behavior and struck her hand out for the dock leg.

Except it wasn’t there. Demanding that she not panic, Hermione reached a little further, to both sides. Nothing. Maybe she’d drifted out a bit. She swam forward a half stroke and felt around. Still nothing. She tried to touch the bottom but it was impossible. Even by the dock leg she couldn’t touch. Her heart pounded in her chest and she suddenly felt sick. Where was the dock?

Don’t panic, don’t panic, she thought over and over as she searched fruitlessly. How far had she gone? She was so stupid! She should have never let go of the dock, especially with the wind! How could she have been so careless?

Hermione searched vainly. The dock was nowhere to be found. The terror of the lake was suddenly upon her and she wanted out of it. Now. It no longer held that calming appeal, but served as a death trap, the cold water pulling at her tired and sore body. Her skin stung and hurt, her muscles protested from having floated on them for too long, forcing them to keep her up. How had she been here this long? It had been hours! The sun was starting to go down, she could feel it. Why hadn’t she tried to go back earlier?

She kept at it, searching in every direction. Normally, she swam with sure, strong stokes. Now, they were choppy, broken, her limbs too tired to work properly, not to mention underfed.

Oh, gods, where was everybody? Would no one see her until it was too late? There was only one person in that house and he would never notice her absence. Why had everyone left her?

“Help!” she cried, knowing it was no use, she was too far away. But she had to try. “Help! Please!”

When she fell beneath the surface for the first time she tried to explain it away, saying she had just not pushed hard enough. But soon, her arms were too weary to produce enough momentum to keep her head up, let alone move her far. She tried to float again, to rest up her energy, but the pain from the sun was too intense, her muscles not even able to hold her up that way any longer. She was pulled under again and had to use too much energy to pull herself back up, back to air.

“Help! Someone, please! Can anyone hear me? Help!” she croaked, her voice breaking as the sobs of pure terror swept through her. She had to keep going, had to find the shore. She pushed her aching body, pushed it beyond endurance. When she couldn’t hold herself above water, she swam beneath it, searching, ever searching. She fought for the surface, for air, for life. Gulping in great breaths of it she noticed the air was cooling as it did so quickly at night. The sun sank ever lower as Hermione Granger drowned in a pond behind the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

“Help!” she called one last time before she sank. She knew she didn’t have enough strength to pull herself up again. Not that she didn’t try. She wouldn’t give up, couldn’t, but her limbs were too heavy. Deprived of oxygen, they refused to work anymore. The dark surrounded her, taunting her. She’d killed herself and she had no one else to blame.

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RynStar15