The Third Day - Part 6
"Yes. Oh, sorry," Hermione answered, taking Harry's hand and drawing him forward. "Imogen, this is my…friend, Harry Potter. Harry, this is my sister Imogen."
"Hi. It's great to finally meet you," Harry said, extending his free hand, which Imogen shook enthusiastically.
"Thank you, Harry," she said fervently. "Viktor told me about what you went through to defeat Lord Voldemort-and retrieve the knife."
Viktor stepped forward and took Hermione's hands in both of his. "You are fully recovered, Hermione?" he asked, his voice shaking. "I was afraid to hope."
"I think so, Viktor," she replied, kissing him lightly on the cheek and pulling away her hands. "Thank you for bringing Imogen-thank you for everything you've done this year. I know it helped so many people."
"I did what had to be done," Viktor said gruffly. He had never been comfortable with praise. "And now you and Harry can be happy at last…together." The last word was barely a whisper.
Hermione struggled for an answer, but she was rescued by Madam Pomfrey, who had just finished deploying a battery of silent Wingardium Leviosa spells to refold and stack the towels. "All right, then, now that we've had introductions all round, I need to check out my patient. Mr. Potter, Mr. Krum, may I ask you to leave? Looks like you both need a good wash, to make yourselves a bit more presentable. Dr. Granger, you may of course remain."
"Oh, but I'm not a real doctor," Imogen protested.
"Yes dear, I know. A Ph,D. in particle physics, isn't it? Professor McGonagall told me all about you last year, when Hermione inquired about your being admitted to Hogwarts as a special student. Just as well you didn't come-this past year has been…dreadful…tragic. So many gone…." Her voice trailed off. "But that's all done now, thanks to Harry."
Harry had grasped Hermione's hand as soon as Viktor released it, and he looked as if he wasn't going to surrender the connection without a fight. Hermione turned quickly and looked at him. She gasped at the intensity in his eyes. "Harry, I'll be fine. You are with me now, always," she whispered, laying his hand on her heart. "It's almost eight o'clock," Hermione said, glancing at the ancient clock on the mantelpiece. "Give us an hour. Imogen and I will meet you-both of you," she added, looking meaningfully at Viktor, "in the Gryffindor Common Room at nine o'clock."
Hermione gave Harry's hand a final squeeze and he recognized the dismissal. He gathered up his pack from the foot of the cot where he had spent those few restless hours when Slughorn and McGonagall were probing the mysteries of Bellatrix' knife. Viktor slung his satchel over his shoulder, and the two Seekers reluctantly shuffled down the row of beds. Hermione watched them until they left the infirmary and closed the door behind them. That was the man she loved. Harry was the one she loved, had always loved. And he loved her. She could hardly believe it.
"Right. Now, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said briskly. "That's enough staring. Let's have a look at you." She motioned to a straight-backed chair beside the bed, and Hermione sat down. The examination was quick but thorough. "Still very cold. Well we can fix that, can't we?" Madam Pomfrey said. "What's this, then?" she exclaimed, as Hermione lifted and turned her head so she could examine her throat. "Where were you injured, Hermione? I can't find it. There's nothing there, no scar, nothing. There's just this little half-circle, but it's totally white, must be from years ago."
Hermione knew she would have to explain her remarkable recovery at some point, but now all she wanted was to get back to Gryffindor Tower, get back to Harry. "I'm perfectly fine now. Can we go?"
"I don't know. I'd like to keep an eye on you for a bit. But all right-on one condition. You need a long, warm bath. Why don't you use the Prefects' Bathroom? It's still in good order. Imogen could join you," she added, glancing at the smudges of soot on Imogen's face and hair.
"Oh, good idea," Hermione agreed.
"And stay in there until you're wrinkled all over."
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."
Hermione picked up Neville's oak cutting, her wand, and the rest of her belongings and led Imogen into the hall. As they walked around and through piles of rubble and up a half dozen shattered staircases, Imogen's eyes grew so wide that Hermione was suddenly reminded of Dobby-and his fate. Her breath caught in her throat. She stopped and threw her arms around Imogen.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I had no idea," Imogen said, drawing back, her arm sweeping out to encompass the scene of destruction around them. "I should never have doubted you. I can't imagine what you went through this past year. I was wrong. You were right to get Mum and Dad away from this. I'm so sorry for what I said. I was angry. I know I hurt you. Can you forgive me?"
"Yes, yes. What's important is that you came to me now," Hermione replied. "Oh, Imogen, it's so good to see you. We'll go to Australia as soon as possible. Harry and I have to go to a funeral this afternoon, but after that you and I will go and find them, together."
"Thank you. You are kinder to me than I deserve."
Two more staircases and another long corridor and they finally reached Griffyndor Tower. "Harmony," Hermione said firmly. "You have to give a password to get in," she explained. "'Harmony' is a new one, just in the past day or so, Harry told me."
They clambered through the portrait hole and climbed the stairs to the girls' room, its five beds stripped to the bare mattress.
Hermione made straight for a sturdy oak wardrobe in the corner. She pulled out a long black robe."This should fit you. Miranda is about your height," she said, handing the robe to Imogen, along with a fluffy white towel. "I'll transfigure some of my old clothes for you when we get back from the Prefects' Bathroom."
"So this was your room for all those years?"
"Yes, since I was eleven-well almost twelve really."
"It looks just like the pictures you showed me."
"Lavender Brown was over there. Parvati Patil, Miranda Prospero, Bronwyn Llewelyn-Davis," Hermione continued, pointing to each bed in turn.
"It's so lovely, Hermione. Charming. Not much privacy, though. You know, at first, when Viktor came…." Imogen paused.
"Viktor came and what…"Hermione prompted.
"I wasn't terribly welcoming. It was the middle of the night but he tracked down the porter, Perkin Sitwell-one of your people…"
"One of our people now, Imogen."
"Right. Sitwell is a wizard. I realize that now. He's been watching me very sharply this past year. Didn't blink an eye when I accidentally melted the lock to the gate when I returned late one night. It was fixed the next morning."
"I imagine he was assigned to keep you safe."
"That's what Viktor said actually. Sitwell told him where to find me. But I was in bed sound asleep-I don't know how he got in-but suddenly this strange man in a black cloak was shaking me awake and calling my name and I just…reacted."
"Oh Imogen, what did you do?"
"I didn't say or do anything but all of a sudden Viktor was thrown right across the room into the far wall."
Hermione gasped.
"But it was all right. He landed against a massive stack of paperbacks that I keep in my room. He just got up, shook himself off, and started talking about what had happened to you, why I had to come. Once he told me his name, I knew who he was, that he was a friend. "
"Paperbacks? Don't tell me you're still reading those…um…romance novels?"
Imogen blushed. "Hermione-I spend all day in a lab with a particle accelerator looking at subatomic blips. I rarely get to talk to anyone and when I do we converse in equations. I love my research, truly I do. But I crave human companionship too…." Her voice trailed off.
"You can't find friends in books, Imogen."
"I know. I know a dashing young hero isn't just going to drop into my bedroom out of nowhere one night." She smiled mischievously and started to giggle. This was such an unaccountable sound from her sister, who had always been intense and serious that Hermione began to giggle as well.
But after only a few moments Imogen's expression turned serious again, and a deep furrow reappeared between her eyes. "Viktor's parents were killed last year, by an attack of giants in Bulgaria," she said quietly.
"No! It can't be. They were friendly, wonderful people. So generous. You would have liked them, Imogen. I didn't know. I never suspected, never thought. I must tell him how sorry I am."
Hermione walked to the window and looked over the lawn toward the Black Lake. "I lost contact with Viktor-with everyone really except Harry, and Ron-this past year. Viktor came to see me for a few minutes yesterday, before he left with Harry-but he never mentioned his parents. Poor Viktor. He's lost so much."
"And now he's lost you too," Imogen said. "He loves you, you know."
Hermione sighed and looked back at her sister. "Viktor doesn't love me. He loves the memory of a 15-year-old girl in the happy time before the war. I'm not that girl any more."
Author Note. I will probably wrap this up in another part or two. I can handle the ending two ways: # 1 - I can write a couple of paragraphs outlining the future jobs, kids, etc. of the main characters and put it at the end of the last part. OR, # 2 - I can write an Epilogue with a scene or two written out. Option 1 you'll get sooner. But I'm willing to try my hand at Option 2 if that's the consensus. Please let me know in your reviews.