Everything I Do, I Do It For You

A/N: To everyone who has been following my story I thank you. Please note that in this chapter Hermione is STILL suffering from PTS (Post Traumatic Shock) so I feel that this justifies how she acts.

Please review after you have read.

This chapter has now been beta'ed by LydiaCarol... Thanks alot, you are brilliant!!!


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Chapter 8:- Hermione’s Admission

Hermione sat at a desk directly opposite Dr. Lopes. He was looking down at his clipboard and sucking on his pen quite thoughtfully. She looked around at the bland white walls, which held not an ounce of colour. Taking in the large mirror which adorned the wall to her left, then hearing muffled voices behind her, she turned around to the door. There were two orderlies standing just outside. They were talking to each other, though she could not make out what they were saying. She recognized one of them as the one who had given her the shower. He seamed pleasant enough on the outside; however, she thought that given the opportunity he could turn into a right bastard - at least that was her perception of him. She thought she was a good judge of character and had yet to be proven wrong.

Dr. Lopes pulled out a small hand-held tape recorder from his right pocket, placing it on the desk in front of him and pressing the record button. Hermione’s eyes watched Dr. Lopes with apprehension as he placed the tape recorder on the desk before them.

“Please tell me your full name?” Andrew said, with his right hand poised over the clipboard.

“Hermione Jane Granger,” Hermione stated, staring at him.

“And what are your parents’ names?” Andrew prodded.

Hermione’s eyes fell downwards. Dr. Lopes, noticing this, made some notes on the clipboard. She looked back up and began in a shaky voice.

“My mother’s name was Margaret Granger and my father’s name was Dean Granger. But I just called them Mum and Dad,” she added sarcastically.

Dr. Lopes, still scribbling on the clipboard, continued.

“What do your parents do for a living?”

It was like he’d asked these same questions at least a thousand times before, and in actuality he probably had.

“It doesn’t matter, they’re dead.” She threatened him with her eyes.

“How did they die?” Andrew asked, continuing. He quickly noted the look in her eyes.

“I told the other doctor, in the other hospital, the one with the not so pretty face.” She smirked to herself. “Well not so pretty now that I broke his nose.”

“You haven’t told me yet,” Andrew said in an almost demanding way.

Hermione sighed, “Very well then; they were murdered.”

“Where and how?” Andrew prodded her gently.

Although she hadn’t had much to do with Dr. Lopes yet, she didn’t really trust him. But who cared anyway? Everyone she had ever loved and who had loved her back was gone. No more friends, nothing. Damn the Ministry; if she was to go to Azkaban and to receive the Dementor’s Kiss for what she was about to reveal, she would welcome it with open arms. She drew in a deep breath and began.

“At our house, my mother was raped while my father was made to watch. Then they really had some fun with them, using every Unforgivable curse they could think of.” Hermione’s eyes were about to spill over.

“How do you know this? Were you there?”

Hermione quickly wiped at her face with her hand before continuing. “No of course not, if I was there I wouldn’t be here telling you the story.” She paused for a brief second and collected herself. Her tone turned icy as she almost whispered, “They sent my parents’ bloodied wedding rings to me at Hogwarts, with a scroll explaining everything they’d done to them.” She looked away from him, not wanting him to see the hurt in her eyes.

Dr. Lopes continued to make notes.

’Does he even care that I am telling him what I have never told anyone else?’ Hermione thought as her anger started to boil over. ‘Where are the damn Aurors? They should have taken me away by now.’ Her eyes were now darting around the room. She waited with bated breath.

“Hogwarts,” Andrew began. “Where is that school? I haven’t heard of it before.”

“Of course you haven’t heard of it,” Hermione’s eyes snapped back to focus on him, her voice with a superior edge. “No one expects a Muggle to hear about the best school for witchcraft and wizardry, do they?” She snorted.

Andrew raised both eyebrows at her, made some more notes, then continued. “So you’re a witch?” he asked.

“I’m not only a witch; I am the brightest witch of this century.” Hermione sat still with an air of confidence that she didn’t feel, scanning the room for even the slightest hint of magic. It didn’t come.

“Who injured you?” Andrew asked.

“I was injured in the wizard battle,” Hermione said, disappointed.

“What happened?”

’In for a penny, in for a pound,’ Hermione thought as she began.

“Well,” she screwed up her face, trying to remember the recent traumatic events in her life, “my friends and I were at school over the Christmas break. Dumbledore thought it would be safer for us to stay at Hogwarts and not go back to The Burrow for Christmas. We were in the common room playing wizard chess; well I wasn’t playing, Harry and Ron were. I was watching and reading a book. Harry’s scar started to hurt him and he fell to his knees, clutching his head. We had been expecting this day for some time now, and knew that Voldemort was coming.”

“Voldemort?” Andrew asked.

“Do you want me to finish my story or not?” Hermione asked, shooting him a hooded glare.

Andrew waved his hand at her to continue.

“All hell broke loose as we gathered up Harry and left the common room via the Fat Lady’s portrait. We ran into the Great Hall to see everyone was assembled there. There weren’t too many of us either, but we were expecting the Ministry to send Aurors at any moment. Dumbledore was trying to calm everyone down. I remember him saying something about Voldemort having broken the wards around Hogwarts and that the Death Eaters were on the school grounds. I didn’t see Professor Snape there, though.” Hermione looked wistfully away. “Anyway, where was I?” She paused. “That’s right; we were all in the Great Hall. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there, as were Tonks, Professor Lupin and Sirius, Harry’s godfather. I think Dumbledore was waiting for the Ministry to show their support by sending the Aurors; however, when they never came he looked grim. He said something about the younger students staying inside, but they protested and we all went out onto the grounds to meet Voldemort and his Death Eaters.”

Andrew looked at Hermione’s face; she was staring into open space. A look of concentration mixed with determination was on her face as she continued.

“There were hundreds of them. We were outnumbered at least ten to one. As the first hex hit Ernie square in the chest, and he doubled over, that’s when all hell broke loose. I tried to stay with Harry and Ron like Dumbledore had discussed with us earlier. Dumbledore, Sirius, Minerva, Tonks, Remus and Hagrid were our shield, standing in front of us as we made our way to find Voldemort. There were curses and hexes flying all around us. I stayed close to Harry and Ron but when I saw Hagrid fall, well, I guess I just lost it. I started letting off hexes left, right and centre. No Death Eater stood in my way.

“Then we all saw Voldemort standing down by the lake; he had an evil grin on his face as Harry went forward to face him. I stayed right by his side; it was so noisy with everyone shouting all around us. What it came down to was Harry, Ron and me against Voldemort, as the others had scattered to fight. Ron and I knew that Harry would be the one to defeat Voldemort, as it was prophesied; but we knew he needed us there. I placed a shielding charm over all three of us as we approached. Voldemort, being the coward that he was, went for Ron first, breaking my shielding charm easily on the first attempt. I knew Ron was hurt but I couldn’t tear myself away from protecting Harry. I put up another charm, focusing all of my powers. This one held for a little longer but in the end fell like the one before it had. Harry was trying his best to defeat his nemesis but it looked as though we were losing. Then a thought crossed my mind: what if Harry and I joined forces to destroy him? That’s what we did; as I fed Harry all of my magic, he destroyed Voldemort. I’m quite sure he couldn’t have done it without me. Before Voldemort left us, though, he threw another curse at us which Harry took in the chest, knocking both of us off our feet. I’m pretty sure it was the Avada Kedavra, as when I woke up Harry was dead.” Hermione was about to cry again, the tears threatening to leave her eyes.

Dr. Lopes, who had been making notes on the clipboard throughout her entire speech, looked up at her expectantly.

Something in Hermione snapped. “Do you think this is easy for me?” Hermione spat, looking at Dr. Lopes. “Reliving the worst day of my life.” She gave a snort, which sounded a bit desperate to her own ears. Hermione folded her arms in a defiant manner and her eyes focussed on the wall directly behind Dr. Lopes.

’Where are the Aurors? Am I really that insignificant?’ Hermione thought desperately. She very much wanted to curl up in a ball and die. Why didn’t he just understand that?

Noting her defensive posture, he muttered. “Why don’t you just trust me and let me be the judge of that? Tell me about Harry,” Andrew said, noticing that she was about to clam up.

Hermione looked from the spot on the wall she had been admiring previously. Her whole body was shaking. Her gaze fell on the doctor.

“Harry was one of those people everyone wanted to be around. He was so powerful yet humble; he was forgiving, kind, interesting and so handsome.” Hermione let out a sigh before continuing, “He had the most beautiful eyes, and that hair of his.” Hermione laughed, remembering. “That scar on his forehead, the scar that Voldemort gave him. It made him look . . . dramatic, it was so eye-catching.” Her face suddenly turned grave. “He was my best friend.” Hermione paused, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Was the scar in the shape of a lighting bolt?” Andrew asked.

“Yes.” Hermione looked up at him, perplexed.

He motioned to a large glass mirror hanging on the wall to Hermione’s left. She looked to where his hand was pointing and then back to him, not quite understanding what he had meant.

“Go take a look at yourself,” Dr. Lopes said coaxingly.

Hermione stood and pushed her chair out of the way. Reluctantly, she made her way over to the mirror, not quite sure what to expect. Looking in the mirror, a gasp exited her throat. She saw the lighting bolt scar still covered by the stitches on her forehead; it looked exactly like Harry’s had. Turning, she faced Dr. Lopes.

Andrew, studying her, looked directly in her eyes. What he saw there was something he had never seen before in one of his patients - and quite frankly it startled him. If eyes were the window to one’s soul then Hermione had previously been to hell and back, meeting with the devil himself and living to tell the tale. Shaking himself, a shiver went down his spine.

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Disclaimer:- Not mine, not making a cent!!! Ah you have got to love the exclaimation mark!!! The best thing since sliced bread.... Why do people use that expression anyway? What's so great about sliced bread?