February 2003
Grimmauld Place was quiet and sombre.
One of the major safe houses had been compromised. It had housed several significant figures in the Resistance, members of DA and the Order. They still weren't sure what happened. A patronus from Alicia Spinnet had burst into Grimmauld Place in the middle of the night. By the time the Order could mobilise a response, whatever had happened had mostly ended.
It hadn't even been a Death Eater attack. Hags mostly and werewolves. The house had been overrun with them. According to Ginny, it had been quite literally crawling with hags, more than a hundred. Many of the survivors brought back to the hospital were missing too many internal organs to be healed.
Alicia Spinnet, Dedalus Diggle, Septima Vector, and about thirty other people had died.
It abruptly shattered the high spirits that had been buoying the Resistance. In the process of trying to recover the survivors, Kingsley and several other members of the Order and Resistance used Dark Magic in order to force their way into the house.
It had resulted in an explosive argument between Harry and Kingsley afterward. The whole house was on edge.
The next week, when Hermione returned to the shack alone, she walked in uncertain of what would happen next. The room was empty. She stood waiting nervously.
Draco apparated in a minute later.
They stood staring at each other for several minutes. He ran his eyes over her, cataloguing her appearance in a way that was habitual at that point.
She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what was going to happen.
"I brought practice knives today," Draco said as though the past two weeks hadn't happened.
"Oh."
He pulled them out of his robes. One of the knives was small, the same size as the set he'd given her for Christmas. The second was larger.
He pressed the blade into his hand demonstratively. "They have wards on the tip and blade; they can't break the skin. Although they can bruise."
He tossed the smaller knife to her.
"Knives are growing increasingly common in the field. Hags regularly carry them. Death Eaters are beginning to pick up on the trend. They're decent backup if you lose your wand."
Hermione examined the knife, running her finger along the edge that appeared razor sharp but felt more like the handle of a piece of cutlery.
"It's difficult to win in a knife fight. Even if you survive it."
"I am aware," Hermione said stiffly. She'd treated knife injuries with increasing regularity during the last year. As far as non-Magical injuries went, knives were the worst. Mangled internal organs, severe blood loss, punctured lungs, hemorrhage. Like severe slicing hexes, but always more ragged and difficult to close.
"I imagine you are." He had not met her eyes. Not once. Since the moment he made the Vow, his eyes had dropped away from hers. "We'll start with deflecting attacks. Then I show you how to attack with yours. Use non-lethal hexes to try to stop me. Your goal is to drop me before I make contact, or to deflect it if I get within range."
He walked toward her. "In order to avoid a knife attack, you should use your opponent's weight and momentum against them. If they're lunging, dodge and try to disarm them."
He demonstrated several techniques in slow motion; showing Hermione how to grab his wrist, guide it safely past her body, and then try to twist the knife free.
"Where did you learn all this?" she asked after he demonstrated a tenth method of disarming someone which involved breaking their arm.
His hands froze. "Bellatrix. I trained under her for over four years. She had a fondness for knives."
"Did she know about your mother?"
He stepped away from her and his expression was tense. "She did. She was alway loyal to the Dark Lord, but she cared for her sister enough to want to see me succeed, rather than fail as was expected."
"D-did your father know?" She couldn't stop herself from asking the question.
Draco swallowed. "No." He looked away. "My father-he-he was very protective of my mother. If he'd known-"
Draco was silent for a moment. "Occlumency isn't a talent he has. Not to the level he would have needed it. He would have been vengeful, and it would have damned us all."
The muscle in his jaw rippled. "My mother insisted we hide her condition from him. There was a potion prescribed by a Danish mind healer; it masked most of her symptoms. Prevented her from panicking when she was required to make appearances. She took it when my father visited. The Dark Lord had mostly kept my father in France and Belgium following his release. He assumed she was cold and distant because she blamed him for my taking the mark."
"After Lestrange Manor?"
"Well, I suppose I could have just told him then." The corner of his mouth twisted. "But I thought I could do more to avenge her if I had more time. I didn't realise how he'd take the news." He gave a bitter smile as he stared down at his hands. "I'm sure the Order wishes I had."
Hermione blinked as she tried to imagine what state the Order might be in with Arthur and Molly and George still fighting; but with no Draco, no rescues, no intelligence on which battles they could win, no warnings before they were hit. She twisted the knife in her hands.
"The Weasleys are my family, but we probably would have lost by now-you weren't crucial in the army then. Your death and your father's wouldn't have been enough to affect the outcome of the war. They'd probably all be dead."
He snorted faintly and continued to avoid her eyes.
"Draco..." she said tentatively, starting to reach toward him. He jerked sharply away from her.
"We should continue with training," he said in a cold voice. "Given that you've now seen first hand the devastation caused by hags."
Hermione swallowed. "We still don't know how they got in. We don't have any idea. Do you know anything about it?"
"Hags aren't in my jurisdiction. I didn't hear until afterward, or I would have tried to give some warning." He hesitated. "It's possible someone in Sussex is working to find a way around the Fidelius Charm using Dark Creature Magic. If they suspected a safe house location, it may have been an unfortunately successful experiment. There are hundreds programs in Sussex; the branches don't collaborate often. I don't have contacts in all of them. You should re-ward your safe houses and move any that you can."
"We are."
"Good," he said as he flipped the knife in his hand. "Let's continue with training."
He made her practice the forms and techniques again and again.
"Alright, let's see how you manage with a real attack," he said after an hour of slow practice. He stepped away from her.
He spun the knife in his right hand the same way he spun his wand as he crossed the room and got into position. His expression was cold and intent as he stared toward her.
Then, without warning, he lunged.
Hermione dodged away and shot mild hexes as she evaded his initial attack. He was quick and relentless. He spun around her and brought the knife up to her throat before she could register that she needed to stop hexing him and try to deflect.
They both froze. Their eyes met for a moment, and it was like time stopped. His face was only inches away from hers, and Hermione forgot to breathe.
His expression grew hard, and he stepped abruptly away from her.
"Again. Timing is everything. You're still too reluctant to move." His tone was almost vicious. He stalked across the room and attacked her once more.
After an hour, he stopped.
"Alright. That's enough for today," he said, walking away from her. He reached into his robes and pulled out a scroll.
Hermione bit her lip, went over to her satchel and withdrew an envelope. She gripped it nervously in her hands as she turned to face him.
"Moody said to give you this," she said, glancing down at the floor. It appeared to have been carefully scrubbed.
She looked up in time to see his expression flicker.
"Of course, my orders for the week." His mouth twisted briefly as he jerked it from her fingers.
She accepted the scroll in his hand and then stood hesitating. "Draco..."
"Run along home now, Granger. I have work to do." His tone was cold. He turned away from her and ripped open the envelope.
Hermione stood for another minute, studying his back. He didn't look back at her. He disappeared without a sound.
The next week, he still wouldn't meet her eyes. He barely spoke to her. He'd train her for exactly two hours a week, hand over his intelligence reports, take his orders from Moody, and leave.
But he was alive; she got to see him and know he was still alive.
However, being alive did not appear to be something he cared about. He just looked tired. The rage around him felt smothered. He appeared to be existing out of sheer obligation.
After three weeks, she caught him by the wrist as he was accepting the envelope in her hand. "Draco, please-look at me," she said, her voice pleading.
He jerked his hand away and looked up at her. His face and eyes were cold. "Is all this not enough for you, Granger? Is there something else you want?"
"No. I just-I'm sorry."
He sneered. "Perhaps someday when I have time I can make a list for you of all the things that apologies don't fix."
Hermione's hand dropped. "Draco, I-"
He was gone.
She returned to Grimmauld Place. Her chest felt hollow.
Everything felt void.
She wanted to get rid of her books, her journals, everything related to Draco. It felt vindictive and cruel to have a notebook with neat bullet points:
~ Sensitive hands - cruciatus treatment useful context for physical contact
~ Shoulders and neck
~ Scars - very responsive
~ Lower jaw near ears
~ Cheekbones
As well as notes for herself:
~ Definite interest in hair
~ Loosen braids after foraging, pull a few curls free
~ Wrists easy contact - find context for pulling up sleeves
~ Likes neck/throat. Possessive trait?
~ Wear collared shirts partly unbuttoned or v-necks. Borrow Ginny's blue boatneck shirt.
All the psychology books. The books on emotional trauma. On attachment disorders. On body language and involuntary physical cues. She wanted to burn it all.
She went up to her shared room with Ginny. Harry was currently on a mission in Scotland. The Order was trying to find a way to break into Hogwarts. It was the only place they were almost certain there was a horcrux to be found, but the castle was impenetrable. The Death Eaters were thorough when the prison was set up.
Hogsmeade had been nearly razed in the early years of the war. There was no Shrieking Shack tunnel or tunnel via the hump on Gunhilda de Gorsemoor. The Order kept trying to find a way past the wards without success. It was Harry's third mission there. Harry, Ron, Terry Boot, and Zacharias Smith had been sent.
Harry hadn't spoken to Hermione since Christmas.
She cast the unlocking charms on her bedroom door and pushed it open. As she walked in, she heard a quick gasp.
Ginny was huddled next to her bed quietly sobbing. She turned sharply when Hermione entered the room. Ginny's expression as she turned and caught sight of Hermione was anguished; her chest was stuttering sharply as she gasped rapidly through her open mouth. Even her red hair was wet with tears.
"Ginny," Hermione said. "Ginny, what's wrong? What happened?"
"I don't know-," Ginny forced the words out and then started crying harder.
Hermione knelt down next to her friend and hugged her.
"Oh god, Hermione-," Ginny gasped. "I don't know how-"
Ginny broke off as she struggled to breathe. Choked hiccoughing sounds emerged from deep in her throat as she fought against her spasming lungs.
"It's alright. Breathe. You need to breathe. Tell me what's wrong and I'll help you," Hermione promised as she ran her hands up and down Ginny's shoulders. "Just breathe. In to a count of four. Hold it. Then out through your nose for a count of six. We'll build up to that. I'll breathe with you. Alright? Come on, breathe with me. I've got you."
Ginny just cried harder.
"It's alright," Hermione kept saying as she started taking deep demonstrative breaths for Ginny to follow. She held Ginny tightly in her arms so that she'd feel Hermione's chest expanding and contracting slowly as a subconscious cue.
Ginny kept crying for several more minutes before her sobs slowed and her breathing slowly began mirroring Hermione's.
"Do you want to tell me what's wrong, or would you rather I go get someone else?" Hermione asked when she was sure Ginny was not going to keep hyperventilating.
"No-you can't-," Ginny gripped Hermione's shirt roughly to stop her. "Oh god! I don't-"
Ginny started sobbing into Hermione's shoulder again.
"I didn't mean to-," Ginny sobbed, "I didn't mean to. I don't know what to do."
"Ginny, what's wrong?" Hermione was growing cold with dread. What had possibly happened to make Ginny cry so much?
Ginny was silent for several seconds. Then she drew a deep breath and held it for a moment. "I'm pregnant."
Ginny burst into tears again.
Hermione jerked back and stared at Ginny in horror. She felt as though she'd been violently punched in the chest.
"How? D-did the contraceptive potion not work?" Hermione felt on the verge of a panic attack of her own. Oh god.
If the contraceptive potion had failed-
If Hermione were pregnant-she'd have to abort it. She couldn't be pregnant during a war. It was not worth the risk. Pregnancy would cause her magic to destabilise. She regularly used certain spells countering curses that were in the darker shades of grey. It was cumulative, and the exposure could result in foetal abnormalities. It might have already-if she were pregnant. Now that Padma had mostly replaced her, developing counter-curses was one of the most vital things that Hermione did in the hospital wing.
If Draco found out that she'd seduced him when she was fertile, he'd probably think she did it on purpose. He'd-he'd-
He'd hate her forever.
Even more than he already did.
The tips of Hermione's fingers were beginning to tingle as though there were needles pricking them.
Ginny's expression furrowed. She stared at Hermione's frozen expression as she smeared her tears away with the back of her hands. "No. I didn't-I was only taking it when Harry was here. Because of the taste, you know. But last month when I was in Ireland and he and Ron showed up at the safe house, I didn't have the potion with me. I thought, it was just once, the charm should be enough."
Ginny sniffled and buried her face in her hands.
Hermione nearly collapsed with relief. There wasn't anything wrong with her contraceptive potions.
Hermione shoved the line of thought away and slammed her occlumency walls in place, forcing herself to focus on Ginny. She hugged Ginny reassuringly and pressed a kiss in her hair.
"It's alright. It will only take me a few days to get the ingredients to make an abortifacient."
"I can't," Ginny choked out the words and started crying again.
Hermione's hands on Ginny's shoulders tightened as she stared at her. She drew a quick breath. "You want to keep it."
Ginny nodded, sniffling. "I have to. Harry-all he talks about is having a family. How after the war we're going to have children. Boys named James, Sirius, or Colin, or girls named Lily and Luna. That's-that's-everything he dreams of. If I got an abortion-it would break his heart. He'd say it was fine, but he'd be devastated. To him it would mean I didn't think he could win. And I can't keep something like that a secret my whole life. Knowing he'd be broken-hearted if he knew and just pretending."
Hermione gave a slow nod and looked away. "Alright." She swallowed. "You can probably stay here until Harry gets back from his current mission. And then we can move you to one of the hospice safe houses. You'll want to be with your mum, won't you?"
Ginny shook her head sharply, smearing the tears off her face. "No. I need to hide it. No one can know. Not Mum, not Harry, not anyone."
Hermione stared at Ginny bewildered.
Ginny looked down and her chest shuddered. "Harry-Harry isn't doing very well right now. Everyone has been getting so excited that we're nearing the end, that we're at the final haul. And he's happy-he thinks it could be real but-it's also breaking him. It's all resting on him but-he doesn't know how to win. How it's supposed to work. He's afraid if anyone realises it, that the whole Resistance could collapse. He's started having nightmares again. Even with me. I don't think he even knows how to function without Ron. We're all that's holding him up. If he finds out I'm pregnant-I'm afraid the stress will end up breaking him completely. It's not like he needs more motivation to want all this done. Thinking that he has a child depending on him-it would probably make everything worse."
Hermione swallowed hard, trying to weigh whether there would be any value in trying to dissuade Ginny. She studied Ginny's face. The stubborn set line of her mouth and jaw and the determined fire in her eyes.
Hermione let out a low, tired sigh. "What do you want to do?"
"I don't know. Maybe I could pretend to get sick with something and hide at one of the hospice houses."
Hermione raised her eyebrows doubtfully, but after a moment she tilted her head thoughtfully to the side. "I think I could pull that off. But-Ginny, you're going to have to be isolated. It could be months. What if you have the baby and the war is still going? Are you going to hide it from Harry then too?"
Ginny shook her head. "No. If the war goes that long, I'll come clean. But if I'm pregnant, Harry will just worry. Being pregnant isn't the same as having an actual baby. If you made me seem sick with something contagious but curable, he'll be upset but he'll be fine. He trusts you. If you tell him it'll take a few months to heal but I'll be alright, he'll believe you. He knows you don't lie to him, even when he wants you to."
Hermione's eyes dropped, and she twisted the hem of her shirt in her fingers. Ginny grabbed her hand.
"You'll help, Hermione. You'll help me protect Harry, won't you?"
Hermione nodded slowly. Her whole body felt leaden. "I'll help you. I'm going to need a few days to figure out how to do this."
"Thanks, Hermione." Ginny grew tearful again. "God, I was so careful. I never meant for this to happen."
Hermione hugged her stiffly and let Ginny cry into her shoulder for several more minutes. She rubbed absent-minded circles on Ginny's back while she made a mental checklist. "We'll figure something out. I know you weren't trying to get pregnant."
Ginny nodded against Hermione's neck. "Thanks. I mean it, Hermione. You're only person I can trust with this." She sat back and rubbed her face. "God, these hormones and everything smells. I don't even know when I cried this much. I think I'm going to have to just hide in here. I passed the kitchen earlier and nearly threw up in the hallway."
Hermione nodded as she mentally catalogued long term illnesses. "That's fine. I need to research." She stood up. "Just stay here. Let me know if you need anything."
Hermione walked out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom. She closed the door carefully behind herself and, looking down at her stomach, cast a pregnancy detection charm. Her hands were shaking faintly.
Negative.
She closed her eyes and collapsed against the door in relief.
She stayed there for another minute until her hands stopped shaking, then she hurried out of the bathroom to the library.
Hermione spent nearly two days straight brewing experimental potions and practicing glamour charms and trying to make sure that every detail was perfect. She gathered up a bagful of potions and went into the bathroom. She downed a small vial and watched the potion take affect.
It took a few minutes. Then a sensation similar to a mild form of polyjuice tingled across her skin and she watched herself transform. Her skin broke out in tight clusters of painful-looking purple pustules across her entire body. She grimaced and inspected herself from all angles. It was a horribly convincing transformation. She pressed and prodded at several of the pustules and felt nothing. The suspended glamour was painless.
She swallowed the antidote and felt her skin tingle again as she watched her skin clear.
She gathered up her potions and went to her room.
Ginny was sitting in her bed, flipping through a magazine. Hermione sat down, and Ginny looked up, her eyes wide and curious.
Hermione fidgeted with the bag in her hands. "I've developed a potion that mimics the external symptoms of spattergroit disease."
Ginny's face screwed up. "Really? Does it have to be that?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's the best option I can come up with that meets all your requirements. It's contagious; it's known to take up to a year to recover from, so you can stay hidden as long as necessary. It looks convincing; if you don't look horribly sick, people might be skeptical. Especially since your brothers are the ones who invented skiving snackboxes. No one is going to think you're faking this. And possibly most importantly, it's non-lethal. Harry isn't going to have to worry that you may die from it. Since it's not a full physical transformation-just an external glamour-I was able to suspend the potion in dragon blood, which means each dose will last for weeks. You won't have to constantly redose to maintain it."
Ginny nodded.
Hermione fidgeted with the string on the bag. "Spattergroit is highly contagious. If someone in the Resistance contracted it, they would be immediately placed in quarantine to prevent risking the entire Resistance. Even though it's non-lethal. I'm-I'm going to have to inform Kingsley of the real situation in order to quarantine you."
Ginny immediately opened her mouth to object, but Hermione held up her hand to silence her.
"If I don't tell him, he won't approve having me as your caretaker. I promise, if I explain it, he won't feel obliged to tell Harry. But he needs to know in order to maintain the lie. And-that way if anyone in your family or Harry try to demand to see you-he has more veto power than I do. Moody will back him too. We need Kingsley."
Ginny gave a reluctant nod.
Hermione pulled out a book with a marked chapter which she held out to Ginny. "Early symptoms of Spattergroit are itching and a sore throat. Anyone you interact with is going to get quarantined for a few days. So avoid Poppy and Padma," Hermione's mouth twitched faintly, "if you have anyone you think needs a few days off, they're the ones you should go see."
The corner of Ginny's mouth lifted slightly. Her eyes grew misty.
Hermione stood up. "I need to go talk to Kingsley. I'm going to dose you before you go to bed. So you'll 'wake' up with it."
Ginny's 'disease' threw Grimmauld into chaos. Hermione and Ginny's room was placed under a mountain of quarantine and containment wards. Only Hermione could enter the room without setting off a house-full of screaming alarms.
Kingsley and Hermione coordinated details as much as possible. Once the diagnosis was given, Hermione and a handful of other occupants in Grimmauld Place were also placed under a precautionary three-day quarantine in another room.
Padma was sent foraging and took Parvati with her. The girls fell into a harpy trap. They fought their way out, but Parvati ended up with lacerations down her back, and Padma's right foot was almost entirely chewed off. Hermione consulted with Poppy through the quarantine wards, but there was nothing that could be done to restore Padma's foot.
Once everyone under temporary quarantine had been cleared, Kingsley placed Hermione in charge of monitoring Ginny's condition. She would visit Ginny every four days. The rest of the time, Ginny would have to be kept in isolation. No one would enter her room. Dobby was made responsible for caring for Ginny day to day and getting meals to her.
When Molly Weasley recovered from her indignation at Kingsley for not being permitted to see her daughter, she was effusive in her appreciation to Hermione for how meticulously Hermione had mapped out Ginny's care.
Researching midwifery on the sly was folded into the the endless list of things Hermione secretly did when she wasn't in the hospital ward covering for Padma.
The Resistance was too busy for word of Ginny's sickness to cause ripples for long. Once the initial panic that the disease might spread had abated, things slipped back into a tenuous sense of normalcy. Hermione only had to dread Ron and Harry's reactions when they returned from Scotland.
Her whole life felt tense without any sense of relief. She felt worn through; stretched out until she was nearly transparent.
She worried every day about Draco, but seeing him was just a different kind of agony. He was gaunt and on edge. He'd barely look at her; he'd barely speak to her. He trained her. He turned over his information. He accepted his orders from Moody. He left.
When she tried to speak to him, he just grew colder.
After several more weeks, he paused and looked her over again rather than just leaving. "Tell Moody to feed you. You look like a corpse."
He vanished before Hermione could say anything.
When she returned to Grimmauld Place, Angelina looked up from a match of Wizard's Chess with Katie, her expression sober. "Harry, Ron, and Terry are back. The Order is debriefing now. No one has told them about Ginny yet."
Hermione nodded and went to the dining room.
"The castle has so many wards it's hard to even find," Harry was saying in a low reluctant voice when Hermione opened the door. He was slumped low in his chair. His eyes had such dark shadows under them that they looked bruised. "We went through the ruins of Hogsmeade trying to find any of the old tunnels. We tried digging out the Honeydukes tunnel, but it's collapsed. So we had the idea of trying to approach through the Black Lake. But when we went in, inferi started coming up and-that's-that's when Zacharias..."
"It wasn't Harry's fault. The lake was my idea," Ron broke in as soon as Harry's voice trailed away. "When he tried to go in after Zacharias, I stopped him."
Ron had a faintly dazed expression, as though he were in shock. Harry refused to look over at Ron.
"That was the right decision, Ron. Inferi in water are nearly impossible to fight since they can't be set on fire," Remus said, resting a hand on Ron's shoulder.
"That's not enough of a reason to let Zacharias drown," Harry said in a bitter voice, his expression twisted with frustration. He was holding a battered quill and steadily ripping the barbs off each side as he twisted it around and around in his fingers. "There was something we could have done if Ron hadn't wasted time restraining me and left Terry to go in alone."
"Keeping you alive is Ron's job, Harry," Kingsley said. "Those are his orders; if you're belligerent about it, I'll reassign him and take over your protection personally. Do you object to your partner, Harry?"
Harry glared at Kingsley, crushing the quill in his hand. "No."
"Good. Anything else to report?"
Harry was silent.
"We pulled out after we lost Zacharias," Ron said in a dull tone, his whole body seemed limp. "Most of the mission was spent surveying and then tunneling."
Kingsley gave a slow nod. "Getting into Hogwarts is vital to bringing this war to an end. You'll have a few days to recover, and then we'll send in a larger team."
"I'd like to volunteer for the next mission," Remus said, leaning forward. "It's clear of the next full moon. I'm familiar with the Forbidden Forest; I have a few ideas that may be worth exploring."
"Me too," Tonks nodded.
"Alright. Harry, Ron, Remus, and Tonks from the Order. Moody and I will look over the rosters and choose two more teams."
Harry nodded and looked distractedly toward the door. "Alright. Anything else?"
"Yes...," Kingsley said slowly.
Hermione cringed inwardly. Harry looked sharply over at Kingsley. "What is it?"
"While you were gone, Ginny Weasley contracted Spattergroit disease-"
"Is she alright? I need to see her," Harry jumped to his feet, his eyes wide and panicked.
"She's been placed in quarantine," Kingsley said before Harry could bolt to the hospital ward. "Spattergroit is non-lethal but highly contagious; an outbreak could have a devastating effect on the Order. She is not permitted any visitors until she recovers."
Harry swallowed and gripped the back of his chair. "Fine. How long does it take? A couple weeks?"
The room turned to look at Hermione by the door. Harry's expression grew guarded as he met her eyes.
"Spattergroit can be a long-term illness. It normally takes months but it can even last up to a year before the contagious elements finally fade. It's impossible to say how long she'll be in the quarantine," Hermione said quietly.
"Months? A year?" Harry looked ready to fall over backwards. "You-you can't isolate her for that long. That's torture. There must be a way for me to visit her. Some kind of potions. Or spells."
"Granger, as our most qualified medical professional, is the only one cleared to visit her in order to monitor her condition. Dobby delivers her meals, since House-elves are immune to disease and not known to carry it. You can send letters and messages with them. They are the only ones permitted in the room. If you make any attempts to come in contact with Ginny, you will potentially endanger the entire war effort. Harry, I will only say this once. If you try to violate the quarantine, she'll be moved to an undisclosed location until she recovers. If you have questions, take them to Granger. Meeting dismissed."
Everyone else filed out. After a few minutes, Hermione stood alone with Harry.
"She'll-she'll be okay, won't she?" Harry said once the room was empty. "Is she in pain?"
"In time she'll be fine," Hermione said, fidgeting her hands nervously behind her back. "She's not in any pain. She's taking restorative potions and she spends a lot of time sleeping. Spattergroit recovery is very reliant on good health, I'm doing everything possible to make sure she is comfortable and happy."
"Okay." Harry nodded repeatedly. "That-that's good. Do you know how she got it?"
Hermione shook her head. "It's fungal. No one else has caught it. It may just have been bad luck."
Harry nodded and stepped closer, his expression grew earnest. "Can I see her? Just once? Just for a minute. I just want to make sure she knows I love her."
The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry, she's in quarantine. There's no "just for a minute." No one can go in."
Harry's eyes got bigger. "I'll be careful. Anything I need to do, I'll follow all your instructions. Just once." His voice was both pleading and conspiratorial.
She knew that voice so well.
Hermione smiled at him sadly as she curled her hands into tight fists behind her back. "I'm sorry, Harry. I can't break the rules. Not even for you."