Latrunculus--Part 5

Hermione tried to remain patient. “I’m Hermione Jane Granger.” She gave them her birthday and her position in the Ministry of Magic. She named the current Minister of Magic and even added the current Muggle Prime Minister for good measure.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Harry trying to fight a smile. Well, she was glad someone found this amusing. Ever since she had awakened, she had beleaguered with constant exams, tests, and rounds of questions.

And no one would answer hers. Each time she asked about the curse used on her, the healer would defer to someone else. It was driving her mad.

Ron appeared in the doorway, drawing her attention. “I need to speak with Ms. Granger privately.”

The mediwizard frowned in annoyance. “Can’t it wait?”

“Official Auror business,” Ron replied.

With a huff, the mediwizard left with his assistant. Harry exchanged a look with his friend before escorting Ginny out. Ron closed the door and took a seat beside Hermione’s bed.

“I just received an owl from Seamus,” he said. “They’re still trying to catch Malfoy. They think that he’s fled to Eastern Europe, possibly Romania or Bulgaria.”

“Will they catch him?”

Ron took a deep breath. “I don’t know. The longer he is free the less likely it is to happen.”

“Finally, an honest answer,” she said, giving him a half-hearted smile.

“Not having much luck with the healers?”

“I would even accept that they don’t know right now as an answer. But they won’t even to admit to that. They just keep deferring to each other. No one is saying anything!”

“Maybe Malfoy’s spell didn’t do anything.”

“I wish I could believe that, Ron,” she said quietly, “but it would be unlike him to waste his chance for vengeance. He had plenty of time to plan it.”

He knew that she was right. And it would be just like Malfoy to use a slow-acting curse. The healers’ confusion let them know that it wasn’t a common curse.

“What I wouldn’t give for the Hogwarts library right now,” she muttered as she collapsed against her pillow. “If I was researching at least I would be doing something.”

“What books would you need?”

Hermione sat back up to stare at him. “What?”

“What books do you think you’ll need?” He smiled. “Oh, come on, Hermione. You know you’re clever. It would be just like you to figure this out before the healers.”

She flushed at his confidence in her. It meant a lot to her, she realized. She quickly composed herself and gave him a list of books.

“I’ll owl McGonagall and see if the Hogwarts library can loan the books. I’m sure she will. After all, you were her favorite student.”

Again, Hermione flushed. Then something dawned on her. “There wasn’t any official Auror business, was there, Ron?”

“Not really,” he admitted with a grin. “I thought that you would want to know what Seamus told me. Besides, I think you needed a break from the healers.”

“My hero,” she said, somewhat teasing him.

It was his turn to flush. “I’ll get this list off and send Harry and Ginny back in.”

“Thank you, Ron.”

He turned from the door and gave her a look. She wished that she could read the emotion in his eyes. And just like that, it was gone. “You’re welcome.”

He closed the door quietly behind him. Hermione once more fell back against her pillow. She realized that she may never get over Ron Weasley.

* * * * *

The healers seemed offended when they found her surrounded by books that afternoon. They told her that they had not found a spell that fit her circumstances. In fact, she appeared unharmed.

Frustrated, Hermione asked to be released. But the healers protested. They wanted more tests and would not feel safe discharging her for another couple of days. That was if she showed no symptoms.

“Hermione, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, “it’s only a few more days. Besides, you could use the rest. You’ve become much too thin.”

The younger woman fought to keep her temper in check. Mrs. Weasley didn’t deserve her anger. “I’m fine. They have said it themselves. If I began to have symptoms, I could always come back.”

“But you live alone, dear. If something happened, no one would know for hours.”

Hermione pressed her lips together in annoyance. Mrs. Weasley did have a point. But honestly, how likely was something like that to happen?

“If I may make a suggestion,” Mr. Weasley said. “Why doesn’t Hermione spend a few days with us? She would be out of the hospital but wouldn’t be alone.”

“Why, Arthur, that’s a lovely idea!” Mrs. Weasley cried. She turned to Hermione. “What do you say, dear? Care to spend some time at the Burrow?”

She looked at their expectant faces and realized that she couldn’t say no. And it was a good solution. “Okay.”

“Wonderful, I’ll speak to the healers about starting on your release,” Mr. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley beamed at him before turning back to Hermione. “I’ll send Ginny over to your flat to pick up a few things. Anything in particular you’ll want?”

Hermione found herself making a list for Ginny, including a reminder to feed her cat. She and Mrs. Weasley were gathering up her books when a mediwitch entered. She told Hermione that she would be ready for release by that evening.

She was surprised when Ron arrived. When Mrs. Weasley thanked him and told them that she would see them at the Burrow, it made sense. “So, you’re my escort?”

“At your service,” he said with a bow. He took his usual chair by her bed and eyed the stack of books. “Find anything out.”

“Not really,” she admitted. “Some like Exsanguinatus take effect immediately. If he had used something like Deludere or Quiesco, I would have never woken up.”

It chilled him to think that she could have never woken up. It was worse when he thought that she could have been killed instantly. It all reminded him of how close he came to losing her.

“Maybe the healers were right,” she conceded. “Maybe I just got lucky.”

“Yeah,” he murmured.

They chatted about various things. When the healer announced that Hermione was free to go, they were both more than ready. He carried her things as they made their way to the apparation point.

“See you at the Burrow,” he said, allowing her to go first.

She nodded and stepped forward. She concentrated on her destination. After a moment, she turned around.

Instead of arriving at the Burrow, she was facing Ron. She was still in St. Mungo’s. Nothing had happened.

“Hermione?” Ron stepped toward her, hoping that nothing was wrong. However, as he saw the tears in her eyes, his gut twisted.

“Oh, Ron, I can’t apparate!”

“Hermione, just calm down. Just try again.”

She nodded. She took a deep breath as she stepped back. She closed her eyes, forehead creased in concentration.

Again, nothing happened. She pulled out her wand. She was so wound up, she was shaking.

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

The bag slowly lifted and hovered about a foot off the floor. Hermione raised her wand higher. The bag wobbled and then crashed to the floor.

She moved to point her wand at the bag again. But Ron grabbed her wrist. “Hermione?”

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she looked at him. “I know what curse he used, Ron. I know what he did to me.”

She threw herself at him, sobbing into his chest. He held her tightly to him. He tried to murmur reassuring words but it only made her sob harder.

“It’s not going to get better,” she protested, her voice muffled by his now damp shirt. “It will only get worse.”


Part V Hermione tried to remain patient. “I’m Hermione Jane Granger.” She gave them her birthday and her position in the Ministry of Magic. She named the current Minister of Magic and even added the current Muggle Prime Minister for good measure. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Harry trying to fight a smile. Well, she was glad someone found this amusing. Ever since she had awakened, she had beleaguered with constant exams, tests, and rounds of questions. And no one would answer hers. Each time she asked about the curse used on her, the healer would defer to someone else. It was driving her mad. Ron appeared in the doorway, drawing her attention. “I need to speak with Ms. Granger privately.” The mediwizard frowned in annoyance. “Can’t it wait?” “Official Auror business,” Ron replied. With a huff, the mediwizard left with his assistant. Harry exchanged a look with his friend before escorting Ginny out. Ron closed the door and took a seat beside Hermione’s bed. “I just received an owl from Seamus,” he said. “They’re still trying to catch Malfoy. They think that he’s fled to Eastern Europe, possibly Romania or Bulgaria.” “Will they catch him?” Ron took a deep breath. “I don’t know. The longer he is free the less likely it is to happen.” “Finally, an honest answer,” she said, giving him a half-hearted smile. “Not having much luck with the healers?” “I would even accept that they don’t know right now as an answer. But they won’t even to admit to that. They just keep deferring to each other. No one is saying anything!” “Maybe Malfoy’s spell didn’t do anything.” “I wish I could believe that, Ron,” she said quietly, “but it would be unlike him to waste his chance for vengeance. He had plenty of time to plan it.” He knew that she was right. And it would be just like Malfoy to use a slow-acting curse. The healers’ confusion let them know that it wasn’t a common curse. “What I wouldn’t give for the Hogwarts library right now,” she muttered as she collapsed against her pillow. “If I was researching at least I would be doing something.” “What books would you need?” Hermione sat back up to stare at him. “What?” “What books do you think you’ll need?” He smiled. “Oh, come on, Hermione. You know you’re clever. It would be just like you to figure this out before the healers.” She flushed at his confidence in her. It meant a lot to her, she realized. She quickly composed herself and gave him a list of books. “I’ll owl McGonagall and see if the Hogwarts library can loan the books. I’m sure she will. After all, you were her favorite student.” Again, Hermione flushed. Then something dawned on her. “There wasn’t any official Auror business, was there, Ron?” “Not really,” he admitted with a grin. “I thought that you would want to know what Seamus told me. Besides, I think you needed a break from the healers.” “My hero,” she said, somewhat teasing him. It was his turn to flush. “I’ll get this list off and send Harry and Ginny back in.” “Thank you, Ron.” He turned from the door and gave her a look. She wished that she could read the emotion in his eyes. And just like that, it was gone. “You’re welcome.” He closed the door quietly behind him. Hermione once more fell back against her pillow. She realized that she may never get over Ron Weasley. * * * * * The healers seemed offended when they found her surrounded by books that afternoon. They told her that they had not found a spell that fit her circumstances. In fact, she appeared unharmed. Frustrated, Hermione asked to be released. But the healers protested. They wanted more tests and would not feel safe discharging her for another couple of days. That was if she showed no symptoms. “Hermione, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, “it’s only a few more days. Besides, you could use the rest. You’ve become much too thin.” The younger woman fought to keep her temper in check. Mrs. Weasley didn’t deserve her anger. “I’m fine. They have said it themselves. If I began to have symptoms, I could always come back.” “But you live alone, dear. If something happened, no one would know for hours.” Hermione pressed her lips together in annoyance. Mrs. Weasley did have a point. But honestly, how likely was something like that to happen? “If I may make a suggestion,” Mr. Weasley said. “Why doesn’t Hermione spend a few days with us? She would be out of the hospital but wouldn’t be alone.” “Why, Arthur, that’s a lovely idea!” Mrs. Weasley cried. She turned to Hermione. “What do you say, dear? Care to spend some time at the Burrow?” She looked at their expectant faces and realized that she couldn’t say no. And it was a good solution. “Okay.” “Wonderful, I’ll speak to the healers about starting on your release,” Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley beamed at him before turning back to Hermione. “I’ll send Ginny over to your flat to pick up a few things. Anything in particular you’ll want?” Hermione found herself making a list for Ginny, including a reminder to feed her cat. She and Mrs. Weasley were gathering up her books when a mediwitch entered. She told Hermione that she would be ready for release by that evening. She was surprised when Ron arrived. When Mrs. Weasley thanked him and told them that she would see them at the Burrow, it made sense. “So, you’re my escort?” “At your service,” he said with a bow. He took his usual chair by her bed and eyed the stack of books. “Find anything out.” “Not really,” she admitted. “Some like Exsanguinatus take effect immediately. If he had used something like Deludere or Quiesco, I would have never woken up.” It chilled him to think that she could have never woken up. It was worse when he thought that she could have been killed instantly. It all reminded him of how close he came to losing her. “Maybe the healers were right,” she conceded. “Maybe I just got lucky.” “Yeah,” he murmured. They chatted about various things. When the healer announced that Hermione was free to go, they were both more than ready. He carried her things as they made their way to the apparation point. “See you at the Burrow,” he said, allowing her to go first. She nodded and stepped forward. She concentrated on her destination. After a moment, she turned around. Instead of arriving at the Burrow, she was facing Ron. She was still in St. Mungo’s. Nothing had happened. “Hermione?” Ron stepped toward her, hoping that nothing was wrong. However, as he saw the tears in her eyes, his gut twisted. “Oh, Ron, I can’t apparate!” “Hermione, just calm down. Just try again.” She nodded. She took a deep breath as she stepped back. She closed her eyes, forehead creased in concentration. Again, nothing happened. She pulled out her wand. She was so wound up, she was shaking. “Wingardium Leviosa!” The bag slowly lifted and hovered about a foot off the floor. Hermione raised her wand higher. The bag wobbled and then crashed to the floor. She moved to point her wand at the bag again. But Ron grabbed her wrist. “Hermione?” Tears slipped down her cheeks as she looked at him. “I know what curse he used, Ron. I know what he did to me.” She threw herself at him, sobbing into his chest. He held her tightly to him. He tried to murmur reassuring words but it only made her sob harder. “It’s not going to get better,” she protested, her voice muffled by his now damp shirt. “It will only get worse.”


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