Unofficial Portkey Archive

This is the sequel of "Forest Scene". Actually, "Forest Scene" is a prequel for this. The events depicted there happen during Christmas break on Harry's 6th year, and "Transformation Scene" picks up at the end of 6th year. Both stories can be read independently, but you might want to read both of them orderly to better understand what's going on. Please be aware of the different ratings of these fanfics :)
Click on my name right up there to get the link to "Forest Scene".

Pairings: Harry/Hermione.
Genre: Romance/Drama.
Rating: R for sexual content.
Spoilers for books 1 - 5.
Status: COMPLETE.
Sequel to "Forest Scene"

Still clutching his wand tightly, Harry slid slowly down the wall, finally resting on his side. His vision obscured by the blood dripping from his reopened forehead scar, he stared dazedly around at the aftermath of the fight, but he didn't care anymore... Hardly able to move, he somehow managed to scoot over a short way until his hand found the bloody heap that was Hermione Granger, and with a final image of Dumbledore taking down some of the last Death Eaters, Harry passed out next to her.

...

The following days dragged on as Harry recovered in the suddenly full hospital wing. Even with the worst cases being taken care of at St. Mungo's, there were enough injured students and staff members to keep Madam Pomfrey running all the time. Most were going to be alright, even if some would remain scarred for life. Ron was heard humorlessly joking about giving Moddy a run for his money, what with having his leg almost blown off, but even he would heal eventually. In fact, after about a week, Madam Pomfrey sent him home, magically bandaged, because she had too many people to worry about.

Before leaving, Ron had asked Harry to owl him as soon as he got any news on Hermione. For even as Professor McGonagall was permitted to leave (after having been nearly mauled to death by one of Voldemort's giants), Hermione remained isolated in her bed, the hangings set so that she couldn't be seen. There was always someone guarding her and Harry and Ron hadn't been allowed to talk to her, nor had she sent them any messages. All they knew was that she was alive, but nobody would tell them anything more than that.

As weeks went by, term ended (the school had resumed normal classes as soon as possible), and the hospital wing emptied. Last to leave was a tearful Neville; Hermione had received whatever spell it was that Bellatrix had used when she had thrown herself in front of him. This had in turn allowed Neville to take Bellatrix down, but the price of it had proven too much for him. He'd always felt something close to reverence for her. Harry had tried to calm him down, telling him she would be fine, but deep inside he knew he was trying to convince himself as much as his friend.

In the end it was down to just the two of them in the hospital wing, with the ocasional visitors that included the Weasleys, other members of the Order, and finally Hermione's parents, who left in tears after every visit to their daughter. Harry felt fine, but Dumbledore had explained that he wanted him to stay until they could make sure that his mind hadn't been affected by Voldemort's attack. It was unlikely, the Headmaster had said, but better not take chances. Harry wasn't in any hurry to go back to the Dursleys' place, plus he wanted to see Hermione, so he didn't object to this.

However, even Harry was pronounced ready to go by a tired-looking Dumbledore, three weeks after the attack. They had seen each other a lot since then, as the old wizard, whenever he was free from dealing with war-related issues, would drop by the hospital wing to check on the injured students. They had barely talked, though, and Harry, who had grown increasingly desperate for the lack of news on Hermione's health after so long, had made a decision.

"Professor, I'm not going to leave," he told the Headmaster. "I'm going to stay here until Hermione heals. It's not like I have anything else to do anyways... and you know the longer I take to go back home, the happier the Dursleys will be. There's still time to go there later so I can spend my yearly month-in-hell..." he went on, expecting to hear the negative any moment.

But Dumbledore, looking older than ever, just nodded and sat down on the bed next to Harry's. Nervously, he sat down too; he might be getting some explanations now.

"It's alright, Harry, you can stay here for a while. In fact, yes, that's perhaps for the best..." He sighed. "Harry, there's something I have to tell you. We weren't sure until now, but Madam Pomfrey's investigation..." he trailed off.

"What is it, sir? She... Hermione's going to be fine, isn't she?" asked Harry nervously. All this time he'd been worried, but had managed to convince himself that if she hadn't died on the attack, and wasn't considered a case severe enough for St. Mungo's, then it was going to be just a matter of time until she healed.

"Harry, we weren't sure but now it's clear what the curse that Bellatrix used was, and the problem is... there's no cure for it. No external cure, that is... it's completely up to the cursed person to deal with the effects of the spell, and I'm afraid Miss Granger isn't doing too well." He seemed to have trouble getting out some words.

"It's a disfigurement curse, Harry. One I think should be made Unforgivable. It has changed her appearance into... well, into nothing, really. Madam Pomfrey has managed to bind the damage to a certain area of Miss Granger's body, but the rest is up to her. She has to become stronger even that the spellcaster - that would be Bellatrix, and you know how powerful she is - and even then, there will be permanent damage."

"But... but professor, it can't be that bad!" said Harry, though he didn't feel too confident. "Remember in second year, when she became half-cat for like a month? She eventually healed and even then, it wasn't so bad, was it? I saw her every day, with the fur and the whiskers and all, and well, if she ends up with donkey ears or with a tail, that's not that bad, is it? She can, oh, i don't know... turn into a Metamorphmagus! I know it's hard, but if anyone can do it that's Hermione, she - " He stopped when Dumbledore raised his hand.

"This isn't an accident like that time, Harry." The Headmaster sighed deeply and paused for an instant. "This is a curse designed to scar a person forever, and even kill them if they aren't strong enough. And it's also purposefully horrible so that it will affect those who love the cursed person as well. But I think... I think it's time you see what Miss Granger has been dealing with for the past few weeks."

Silently they both walked towards Hermione's bed. Dumbledore pulled the hangings aside, and Harry's eyes fell upon a sleeping Harmione's pale, worn face. She was thinner than ever, but she didn't look that bad to Harry - nothing that some of Mrs. Weasley's food and some days under the sun couldn't fix, he thought weakly. But Dumbledore led him around the bed, and when the old wizard gently lift the blanket a bit, Harry had to fight the sudden urge to scream.

Hermione's back - at least her shoulders, since Dumbledore wouldn't raise the blanket too much, least her nakedness became obvious - was heavily bandaged, but that wasn't what made Harry want to scream. The bandages kept moving, as if there were things underneath, things like tentacles and contorting faces and unidentifiable, horrible forms - but that was impossible, Harry thought, this can't be...

Slowly, as not to disturb the sleeping girl, the Headmaster led a stunned Harry back to his bed.

"You see, Harry... your friend has been fighting this curse for weeks now. Because of her strong will and Madam Pomfrey's efforts, she was able to concentrate the effects of the spell on the area around her shoulderblades - the place where she was originally hit with the curse. I don't know if many would be able to fight such an unfair battle, Harry; and she's done it without even complaining. Very brave, Miss Granger... a true Gryffindor indeed."

"What - what happens if she can out-will Bellatrix?" asked Harry quietly.

Dumbledore seemed to be thinking about this question for a while before answering it. "She'll become something else, Harry. We don't know exactly what... it probably depends on just how well she does. A part human, in any case, if that."

"So that's the best we can hope for? And if she loses the battle, sir?" Harry's voice was now positively shaking.

Lowering his head, he replied: "In that case, parts of her body will turn into random things. Tentacles, like you saw, extra body parts, even minerals... this would torn her body apart. I hate to tell you this, Harry, but it's better if you find out now... she could end up with, say, a rock piercing her heart... she's almost sure to die a painful death, or live in agony for the rest of her days." A single tear fell from the Headmaster's face onto the stone floor.

...

From that day on, Harry could be found, no matter what the time, sitting on the stairs right outside the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had thrown him out once he didn't need to stay there anymore, so that Hermione, now the only patient, wouldn't need the hangings around her bed anymore and could at least enjoy what little sunlight came in through the windows opposite her.

Harry had asked Madam Pomfrey to let Hermione know that he wanted to see her, which she did, but there had been no reply. So with a heavy heart, Harry just sat there waiting for something to happen.

He wasn't alone though. Ron, whom he had owled as soon as he found out about Hermione's health, had come to visit a few times, along with Ginny, and they'd all sat on the stairs, talking about the ongoing war, but Hermione didn't ask them to come see her. Neville and his grandmother had come to visit too, and though she was allowed in, Neville and Harry again had to stay outside. Hermione's parents came to see her every day, but they wouldn't talk to anyone else.

Frustrated and desperate, Harry refused to leave his spot, the same place where years before Colin Creevey had met with the Basilisk. He even ate there - an permanently tearful Dobby would bring him food from the kitchen. Dobby had become very attached to Hermione and he seemed to be taking this worse than Harry even.

"It's the house-elves fault this happened, Harry Potter!" he kept saying between enormous sobs. Voldemort's elaborated plan this year had involved exploiting a blind spot in the Hogwarts anti-apparation defenses that had remained in place all these years to allow the house-elves perform their work. It was what had allowed Dobby to disapparate from the hospital wing back in Harry's second year at Hogwarts.

"It's not your fault, Dobby" said Harry heavily. "It wouldn't have happened if the wizards hadn't considered the house-elves as inferior creatures... See? All this time Hermione was right, and we kept laughing at S.P.E.W." Harry pronounced every letter this time. "If there weren't slave house-elves here, the anti-apparation defenses would have been built properly, but the wizards' foolish disregard for your kind didn't let them see the danger they were playing with. Just to ensure their comfort." Harry's knuckles had gone white as he clutched the stone step beneath him. He continued talking, though.

"What we were too blind to see, Voldemort was able to figure out how to use against us." Dobby had squeaked weakly at the mention of he-who-must-not-be-named, and dropped an empty trail of food that fell down the stairs making an awful lot of noise. When Harry had finished helping him pick it up, he kept talking. "He's done it before and we should have seen this coming. He sees how wizardkind keeps mistreating the other magical creatures, and uses that against us. That's how he got so many giants to join his side - by giving them what we won't - and now he's learned from the house-elves how to do this. Who can blame them, really?" Harry's eyes were now brigth. "None of us cared, Dobby, except..." He sighed and they both stared at the door to the hospital wing.

...

Another two weeks went by like this, and Harry had one more reason to be worried now; soon he'd have to head back to the Dursleys' for his annual fix of blood-protecting magic, and he knew Dumbledore would be firm on that.

Then, late one night, he was started from his troubled sleep by a rush of people running nearby. The door to the hospital wing was open and he could hear voices yelling - he recognized Madam Pomfrey's and Professor McGonagall's, and then - he felt his blood freeze - Hermione's anguished screams. He ran to the door only to slam into Professor Dumbledore.

"I was just coming to see you, Harry. Come with me," the old Headmaster said as he dragged Harry, who kept trying to steal a glance of Hermione through the open door, down the hall.

"Harry," he said, "I'm afraid things aren't going well. Miss Granger has put up an extraordinary fight, but she's exhausted and it seems whatever's going to happen, it will happen tonight."

"But - but, can't you do anything, sir? Madam Pomfrey? Can't you take her to St. Mungo's? We can't just let her die, professor!" Harry nearly yelled.

"No one can do anything now, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said softly. "It's entirely up to her. Which is why I wanted to talk to you, Harry. I think it's time that she gets some help - some help neither medicine nor magic can give her. We can't do anything for her, but I think you should stay by her side, Harry. I know you are her best friend, and she needs you now more than ever."

They both walked back to the hospital wing. Professor McGonagall walked past them, stopping only enough to give Harry a squeeze on his shoulder. They could heard her blow her nose as they entered the ward. To a nod of Professor Dumbledore's head, Madam Pomfrey left, and for only the second time in over a month, Harry was able to see Hermione. She had stopped screaming now and was lying with her back to them, whether asleep or not, Harry didn't know.

But even though she was covered by her blankets, the shuddering bulge in her back was apparent, as it kept raising and lowering again, and making strange, wet noises, like some wounded beast trying to breathe.

Dumbledore lowered his head to whisper in Harry's ear: "Go on now, Harry. I can't tell you what to do, but I think that as her best friend, even having you close by is the best we can do for her now." Words having left him, Harry simply nodded and walked dazedly toward his friend's bed.

Sitting on a chair that had been set next to the bed side, Harry stared into her face, even paler now that it had been last time, and was started when her eyes opened to look at him.

"Hello, Hermione," he said, trying hard to make his voice sound natural. He forced a smile into his face. "It's not like you to be slacking like this. Better stop being lazy soon - why, you have all the final exams to make up to yet!"

Hermione's lip moved slightly and for a second she seemed to be almost smiling, but then she broke down completely, and covered her face with her hands as she cried.

"I - I'm sorry, Harry! This is why I didn't want any of you t - to see me - because I k - knew I'd lose it - Aaagh!"

She arched her back and went rigid for a second. Started, Harry grabbed her hand until she calmed down. Her face shone with tears, but she stopped crying, and when she talked, it was with a strained but controlled voice.

"I'm too tired, Harry... I can't do this anymore, you know? I've tried but... I just have to let it happen now, whatever it is." She stared at the ceiling as she said this.

Still holding her hand, Harry moved closer to the bed before speaking. "You can't give up, Hermione... You can't let them win. We - we need you. I need you, Hermione."

She looked into his eyes now, and seemed about to cry again, but somehow managed to control herself. "I don't want to leave you, Harry... that's... that's the last thing I want to do and you know it."

And Harry saw in her eyes that she knew it, that she knew what he felt for her. Even though he hadn't had the courage to say anything, she'd figured it out... of course, he thought, after all she's the cleverest witch in Hogwarts... of course she knows...

As if to reassure him, she gave his hand a short squeeze. Feeling safe enough to talk without crying himself, he said "I'm sorry, Hermione... I should have said something... before... and now, just - " He had to stop to breathe. This was incredibly hard to do. "You mean so much to me, Hermione... you have always been there for me and now I don't know what would I do without you. Please don't leave me, Hermione... Please..."

His tears were flowing freely now, and it was Hermione - hopeless, agonizing Hermione - the one that had to comfort him, running her free hand through his cheek.

"I want you to do something for me, Harry. Something I've wanted to do for a long time now... with you. Harry, please make love to me."