#1 tomione on Samhain 2018 for two weeks.
Unspeakable Granger wakes up with missing memories in Hogwarts...in 1942. She considered changing the wizarding world now to prepare against dark lords in her future. But who is that prefect? Her mind itches...
And this is the chapter I'd been wanting to write since the beginning (variations of this sub-arc had been in my mind for several years, actually, but without a solid enough main story to be attached to). Fantasy medical stuff! Action! Alas, I didn't realise how much groundwork needs to be laid before I can get here.
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Tom is shot. Hogsmeade is attacked. The two of them enters the crossfire. Hermione enters her field medic mode. Arranging evacuations. Raids. Aftermaths. A prefect meeting.
(Summary applies to both chapters titled 'Hogsmeade Crisis')
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Hermione stared at the hand that had been holding Tom's back. Red.
Her blood ran cold. The plus side of facing muggles, she supposed, was that no one placed any anti-apparition wards. The moment they were both standing, she apparated them back to the Shack. The dust swirled past her face, making her want to sneeze, and the air inside was noticeably staler now that they had just been in the open air, yet she was still relieved. They were just inside the door—Tom had his back to it, even.
"Hermione?"
She recognised his expression right now—she'd seen it in Harry, in her friends. It was trust. Her hand had moved and started casting the diagnostic spell as she whispered the incantation.
"You've been shot." She said softly. He didn't seem worried.
"It doesn't really hurt much."
"And some people walk around with what they think is a minor gunshot wound before suddenly dropping dead. No gradual worsening whatsoever." She said. Hermione read the results; a cracked rib—so that's where the bullet was stuck in. She augmented her hearing and pressed her ear to his chest. His heartrate was rather elevated, but it was no surprise after all the running.
"Take a deep breath."
He complied. She noticed the way his breathing stopped suddenly when the pain made itself obvious, but Tom continued after that. "Hold it. Release it slowly."
Alright. No punctured lung. She thought. Hermione returned her hearing to normal levels and asked to see his back. She could see that he really thought it wasn't necessary, but he didn't mind humouring her. She only needed him to go down to his shirtsleeves to check—based on the neat entrance wound, the bullet wasn't fragmented.
