Chapter Text
The flames ate at her spell with a strength that she had not been prepared to match, but she made it through the flames only to find herself watching Neville stand in front of an ornate, golden mirror, held in place by none other than Professor Quirell.
She tried not to make a sound, to stay hidden and offer support only if Neville needed it, but some disembodied voice echoed throughout the room. “We are not alone.”
Professor Quirrell whirled to face her and extended his hand, snapping, “Come here, Granger!”
Hermione felt pulled forward by an unseen force, unable to control her own feet as she walked jerkily towards Neville and Quirrell in front of the mirror. Her friend’s face was pale and shaky, but he gave her a subtle shake of his head. Quirrell did not have the Stone. Though how Neville knew that, Hermione wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
Quirrell pushed her in front of the mirror and she almost jumped in surprise as she saw herself not as she was. Instead, she saw herself holding the Stone, an odd looking thing that had no discernible cut pattern, made out of an amber substance and leaking a sort of goo that she knew to be the Elixir of Life.
The version of her in the mirror held the Stone and went to put it in her pocket, but before she could, Neville came up in the mirror and shook his head, jerking his chin toward Neville’s pocket. It took everything in Hermione not to look in that direction, but she focused instead on the fact that the version of Neville in the mirror had a noticeable lump in his pocket.
Oh God! Hermione realized in horror. The Stone was in Neville’s pocket.
“What do you see?!” Quirrell demanded.
Hermione blanched, but she tried to remember what Gwyn had taught her about lying. Always be specific, believe what you are saying, and don’t change your normal behavior. If you were already nervous, then stay nervous.
“I . . . I don’t understand it, but I’m standing next to a dear friend. I’m engaged, I think. And I have an Order of Merlin, though I can’t tell what class. It’s a bit difficult to make out.” She stuttered, trying to add in as many details as she could think of.
“The girl liesssssss.” That same disembodied voice echoed once more.
Quirrell looked enraged, “Tell the truth!”
But before either Hermione or Neville could answer, that scratchy voice said, “Let me sssspeak to them.”
“Master you are not strong enough.” Quirrell argued back, stepping away from the kids.
Hermione and Neville shared a panicked look as the voice said back, “I have ssssssstrength enough for thisssssss.”
Then, in the most strange turn of events all night, Professor Quirrell began to unwrap his turban and turned away from the kids. Hermione and Neville paled in horror as the scrap of fabric was removed and a face appeared out of the back of Quirrell’s head.
Neville couldn’t hold his tongue and breathed, “Voldemort.”
“Yesssss.” The voice, now emanating from the head, insisted, “Do you sssssee what I have become. Sssssee what I mussst do to ssssurvive.”
Hermione argued, angling her body slightly in front of Neville, “That is not surviving.”
“Ahh yesssss. The Mudblood who daressss ssssully the houssssse of Ssssalazar Sssslytherin.” He hissed, his features twisting into something more disgusted.
“You and I have very different definitions of what it means to sully one’s house.” She called back, tilting her chin up.
“Be that asssss it may, Hermione Granger, I did not come here to fight tonight.” Then the face smiled. It made him look almost human. Almost. “I came for the Sssstone. The ssssame one that conveniently liesssss in your pocket.”
He moved to look at Neville who instantly panicked and called to Hermione, “Run!”
They both bolted back toward the door to the potions room when Voldemort ordered, “Ssssstop them!”
Hermione whirled to find Quirrell storming toward them with his wand upraised. Neville pulled his own wand out, but he wasn’t fast enough, so Hermione took her own out and yelled “ Protego!”
Whatever nasty spell Professor Quirrell had tried to use bounced off of the purple shield Hermione had erected in front of herself and Neville. But the magic was exhausting, more exhausting than she expected it to be. She knew that she couldn’t hold it for long.
She made eye contact with Neville who nodded and copied the movements that she had done, calling out the same Shield spell.
Professor Quirell threw another spell at them and Hermione flinched, even as Neville’s hastily created shield held and kept them from the brunt of the blast. She couldn’t think of anything else so she stepped out of the shield and shouted, “
Expelusi Visceri!”
She caught Professor Quirrell in the side, but she was not quick enough to step out of the path of his next spell, which hit her on the side. Hermione felt a small pinch and then searing pain as she crumpled to the ground, unable to move.
Vaguely, she saw the form of Professor Quirrell, stitching his abdomen back together as he stood over her, leering. “Please.” She whimpered, but he simply smiled.
Voldemort’s voice called, “You could have been great, you know? If you had jusssst joined me. Fighting isssss sssso futile.”
But before Quirrell could do anything else, Neville was standing over her, grabbing Quirrell for his wand. Hermione smelled burning flesh, but she could not see what was happening. It was taking all of her strength not to go unconscious.
Screams echoed through the space, not entirely human, and the smell intensified.
She was able to hold on just long enough for her to hear Neville as he ran over to her saying, “Stay with me, Hermione. Stay with me.”
Hermione blinked the sleep out of her eyes and tried to move, though a small twinge of pain stopped her from moving too far. After a few seconds, she was able to open her eyes, though whatever room she was in was super bright and . . .
VOLDEMORT!
Hermione tried to sit up, her heart racing as she looked around her surroundings, only to be pushed back on the bed by strong, yet gentle hands. Her wild eyes landed on a set of concerned grey ones, eyes that looked exhausted with big purple bags under them.
She swallowed and said, “Draco?”
Her voice came out scratchy and pained, from disuse, quickly remedied by her partner bringing a glass of water up to her lips. From her other side, she heard her Head of House’s voice, “You need to lay back, Miss Granger. You took a rather nasty curse to your side and Madame Pomfrey has spent the better part of the last day patching you back up.”
Hermione’s eyes widened and she started to twist, but Draco pressed a hand to her shoulder, a soft reminder not to move too much. “Are Neville and Blaise and Theo and-”
“They are all fine, Miss Granger.” Snape assured her. “Mister Potter and Miss Parkinson were able to find Dumbledore, who arrived back at the castle very shortly after the seven of you decided to go after the Stone. He was able to get everyone to safety, including you.”
“But they are-”
“All currently enjoying breakfast, I’d imagine.” He interrupted once more.
Draco smirked and stifled a small laugh at that, though Hermione didn’t find it even remotely funny. She attempted to sit up a bit more, Draco almost immediately moving with her to readjust her pillows. “What day is it today, sir?”
“Sunday. As I said, Madame Pomfrey spent the better part of a day healing you.” He answered with no hesitation.
Hermione swallowed and looked down at her feet, covered by the thick hospital wing blanket. “What happened, sir? I’m not entirely sure. I simply remember cursing him and then . . . I don’t even remember seeing the Headmaster.”
Snape bristled at the mention of Dumbledore, but he answered carefully, “You did manage to curse him, and it likely saved your life. Quirrell couldn’t put enough energy into finishing the job because he was too busy trying to keep himself from dying then and there. But Mister Longbottom stepped in.”
“He was burned to death, wasn’t he?” She asked quietly and Professor Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Yes he was.” He did not ask her how she knew, which was good. If Hermione had to describe the very little that she remembered, she wasn’t sure if she’d keep from hurling. “The Headmaster has informed us that there is some sort of protection on Mister Longbottom. One that made it impossible for Professor Quirrell to touch him without suffering from massive burns.”
“And my parents?” She hadn’t even told them about the troll at the school, and she had not been affected by that danger. What would they think if they knew that she had . . .
“They have not yet been notified, though the Malfoys did come on your behalf as a magical representative, to consent for care.” He explained. Hermione’s eyes slid to Draco, who shrugged his shoulders.
Hermione smiled easily and looked back at Professor Snape. “Professor, if it is Sunday, then the End of Term Feast is tonight.”
“That it is, Miss Granger.” He answered cooly.
“Would I, that is, do you think that Madame Pomfrey would allow me to attend? I believe that Slytherin won the House Cup and I do not want to miss that.” She asked, biting her lip. Hermione couldn’t help it. The stress of the last few days was weighing on her and she needed something good. Something light.
His lips tilted upward. Most would be hard-pressed to call it a smile, but Hermione knew better. She knew it was the closest to a smile that Professor Snape ever managed. “I am sure that she would make an exception for you, Miss Granger.”
Then Professor Snape began to leave the Hospital Wing, stopping just before he crossed the threshold. He turned back to the pair of first-years who met his gaze with sharp looks of their own. “I would remind both of you, that the Dark Lord is not gone. He is merely hiding once more. And you have both made yourselves a target. Take care.”
He left and Draco immediately began fussing over her. “Are you comfortable? Do I need to get you another pillow? I can steal some from one of the other beds.”
Hermione stopped him by grabbing his hand and squeezing, just as he had done so many times that night. She asked softly, “Are you mad at me?”
“What?”
“I was supposed to follow you and I . . . are you mad at me?” She asked, unable to look him in his eyes.
Draco gently tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I was absolutely furious with you. But I could never stay mad at you for doing what you thought was right. I just don’t want to ever see you hurt like this again.”
“Can I hug you?” She asked, sniffling as she barely held back the tears that were threatening to spill over her eyelids.
Draco didn’t bother answering her with words. He simply leaned forward and pulled her against him, mindful of her side, still wrapped with a large bandage.
The two of them spent the rest of the day in the Hospital Wing while Draco caught Hermione up on everything that had happened in the past two days. Apparently, Harry and Pansy had flown out of the room, past the Devil’s Snare, only to find Professors McGonagall and Snape in the room with Fluffy, leading Professor Dumbledore down into the chamber. McGonagall brought Blaise and Theo up to Madame Pomfrey and, thankfully, Blaise only had a concussion so she was able to treat that rather quickly.
Draco had been on his way up when Professor Dumbledore ran into him and mumbled something about the two fighting the one before disappearing through the fire. Professor Snape took Draco out of the basement and they waited in the Hospital Wing until Hermione arrived, though Draco had sent his parents a missive before she had been brought to the Hospital Wing.
Narcissa and Lucius had arrived within the hour, coming through the Governor’s Floo and demanding that they be kept informed of Hermione’s care, while Madame Pomfrey healed her. Draco hadn’t left her side once, so he wasn’t aware of everything that was being said around the castle, though he did know that most of the story had gotten out. Students everywhere were exaggerating and adding bits and pieces to the story as it grew, until someone had claimed that they had fought a dragon.
Hermione didn’t much care about that, though she did care that no one was told about the Dark Lord being back. They were only told that Quirrell had attempted to steal the Stone for himself. She was outraged, but Draco reminded her that it was probably for the best.
After some sweet-talking and much more pleading, Hermione managed to convince Madame Pomfrey to let her attend the End of the Year Feast, which was an even more ostentatious affair than the Welcome Feast had been.
The amount of food piled on each table was positively insane. Hermione was more than a little put out that the potions she was taking decreased her appetite, though Draco had paid attention when Madame Pomfrey explained that part, so he was careful to give her smaller portions of everything he knew she would like.
All of her friends had attempted to wrap her in tight hugs, only to remember her injury and settle for an awkward side hug instead. Well, all of them except Harry and Neville, who simply waved at her from across the Hall.
It was nice to feel normal again, after everything.
The food disappeared after about an hour and Professor Dumbledore stood, his voice echoing off the stonework. “Another year has come and gone. And we are here today to celebrate the awarding of the House Cup The House points are as follows: In fourth place, Gryffindor with 312 points. In third place, Hufflepuff with 346 points. In second place, Ravenclaw with 358. And in first place, Slytherin with 370 points.”
Raucous cheers broke out all along the Slytherin table. They had won the House Cup for several years in a row, but it was still an important victory, and Slytherins were nothing if not prideful when it came to their house.
But before they could celebrate too much, Dumbledore raised his voice more and said, “Yes, well done Slytherin. However, before we begin celebrations, there are a few last minute points that must be awarded.”
The entire Hall was filled with mumbling as students looked around to try and determine what was happening. “To Mister Theodore Nott, for the cool use of intellect and puzzle-solving, I award 10 points.”
Theo looked down at his empty plate before squeezing Tracy’s hand and high-fiving the rest of the group. Hermione just smiled gently, having an idea as to where this was going to go.
“To Miss Pansy Parkinson. For keeping a clear head in the face of adversity, I award 5 points.” Pansy smiled and waved gently, ever the consummate lady.
“To Mister Blaise Zabini, for the best played game of chess this school has ever seen, I award 10 points.” Blaise just nodded in acceptance.
Draco squeezed her hand when Dumbledore announced, “To Mister Draco Malfoy, for strong leadership in times of great peril, I award 10 points.”
But it was when Dumbledore announced, “To Miss Hermione Granger,” that Draco looked at her and beamed, “for stunning bravery and loyalty against insurmountable odds, I award 15 points.”
“That puts us at 420 points.” Theo informed them, apparently having kept track of the newfound points. “That means we have over 100 points more than Gryffindor. It’s the biggest win in House Cup history.”
But something told Hermione that their lead wasn’t going to stay for very long. Dumbledore held out a hand to again silence the Slytherins who had become a bit more excited and said, “yes well I have two more sets of points to award. To Mister Harry Potter, for exceptional flying and a stirring example of inter-house Unity, I award 50 points.”
The entire hall was alight. 50 points! It had never been heard of, getting that many points in one sitting. And it brought Gryffindor dangerously close to Slytherin. Hermione knew what was coming before Dumbledore continued, but that did not make her any less indignant when he announced, “And to Mister Neville Longbottom, for facing down the object of one’s fear, selfless intent, and saving the life of a fellow student, I award 60 points.”
The Great Hall erupted in protest, but Dumbledore clapped his hands and the banners previously lauding Slytherin changed from emerald green to scarlet red. The silver snake morphing into a roaring, golden lion. “Congratulations to Gryffindor house for winning this year’s Hogwarts House Cup.”
The entire table of lions erupted with applause and cheers, but two amongst their rank looked less than enthused by this turn of events. Harry and Neville both met Hermione’s gaze and shot her looks that could only be described as pleading and consoling.
The Slytherin table refused to be seen as anything approaching petty, though they all knew that they were. Still, the Slytherins kept their heads held high and did not bat an eyelash, saving any complaints they might have had for when they retreated into the common room after the Feast.
Hermione and the rest of the snakes from their number made their way back to the Hospital Wing, since Madame Pomfrey’s one stipulation to attending the feast was that she spend the night in the Hospital wing before leaving on the train the next morning.
They all gathered around her bed, grumbling about how unfair the entire situation was for another hour before the stern old Healer came and shooed them out of the room, even Draco, claiming that Hermione needed her rest for the long train ride the next day.
The group of Slytherins packed into one compartment, much like they had when departing for their Christmas holidays, each of them relaxing as best they could. Theo and Hermione were sitting next to one another, heads buried in a book about Ancient Runes which Theo was helping Hermione decode. Draco was leafing through a Potions text that was not exactly sanctioned by the school. Pansy was working on her nails. And Blaise was playing a game of chess, against himself.
Harry and Neville both stopped by for a few minutes, though they didn’t stay long. Apparently the whole of Gryffindor house had decided to laud them as heroes, while every Slytherin they passed gave them looks that could kill.
By the time they reached the platform, Hermione felt exhausted and sad. She did not know if she would get the opportunity to see any of her friends over the holiday, though they had all promised to write, even Harry and Neville who told her that Harry’s Mum desperately wanted them to invite her to their home. She wasn’t ready to give this all up, even if only for a few months.
But the train stopped and Hermione let Draco escort her off the train, even letting him collect her trunk and bring it over to the side of the platform where she saw her awaiting parents. He stopped her just before she reached them, gently tugging on her hand until she turned around and faced him.
“I’ll talk to Mum and D
ad
. We will see each other soon. Don’t worry.” He said, pulling her into a tight hug.
Hermione breathed in the scent of him and hugged him back with equal fervor before pulling away, very aware of the fact that her parents were nearby, likely watching every move she made.
She waved at Gwyn, who was greeting her own parents and Adrian’s by the looks of it. Her mentor gave her a small nod of approval and Hermione beamed as she pushed her trolley over to her parents.
Her dad immediately engulfed her in a hug and Hermione had to try not to wince as he aggravated her tender side. Thankfully she wouldn’t scar or anything, but the pain had not completely dissipated and she didn’t want to start that conversation with her parents, no matter what.
“We’ve missed you, monkey. Are you ready to come home?” He asked, stepping behind her trolley so she could give her mother a hug as well.
Hermione spared a glance back at her friends and looked back at her dad, “Let’s go home.”