Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Innocence Faded
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Chapter 7: Losing Time
She dresses in black everyday
She keeps her hair simple and plain
She never wears makeup
But no one would care if she did anyway
--Dream Theater "Losing Time / Grand Finale"
For the next month and a half, Hermione barely spoke to anyone. When she wasn't teaching or at meals, she was sequestered in her quarters, working on something she wouldn't tell anyone about.
"Harry, can I have a sample of your blood?" Hermione asked after class was over, eight days after Harry woke from his coma.
"What do you need it for?" Harry inquired."If you don't mind me asking, that is."
"Can't tell you, but it's vitally important for my plans for the upcoming duel," Hermione said distractedly.
"At least give me a hint," pleaded Harry. As Hermione opened her mouth to protest, Harry added, "If you give me a hint, I'll give you the blood."
"Oh, alright, fine," Hermione sighed resignedly,"Let's just say you don't want James, Albus, or Lily to see the duel, and if all goes right, you may never want them to see Ginny again..."
Harry rolled up his sleeve, trying not to imagine the grisly fate that awaited his ex 'wife.'
Two days later Harry got another unexpected visitor."I told you Weaselette was bad news," Draco Malfoy drawled as Harry entered his office.
"How'd you get in here?" Harry said, shooing his visitor out of his chair.
"What, no, 'Glad to see you?' No, 'How have you been, old friend?' Where are your manners today?" Draco smirked, taking the seat across from Harry.
"Sorry, I've just been a little tired lately. Cheating death takes a lot out of you. So why weren't you at the deathbed vigil?" Harry asked.
"I came by, but you know how the Weasley's feel about me. It doesn't matter that I left the House of Malfoy and swore loyalty to the House of Potter, they'll always see me as the arrogant, blood purist, Death Eater wannabe asshole that nearly killed Dumbledore--"
"We both know you never came close to killing him," interrupted Harry.
"Doesn't matter to them. Anyway I showed up and apparently missed you waking up by ten minutes," Draco said.
"Well, at least Jonas thought to contact you. I just don't get it. Jonas trusts you, so why don't the Weasley's?" Harry shook his head.
"You know and I know that he only trusts me because he knows that I know that if I try anything on you, Hermione, or the Weasleys, that he'll break me in two--literally," Draco said.
"He'd be well within his right as the Potter family Archon," Harry replied, referring to the title usually given to the heir apparent of the Ancient and Most Noble Houses. The Archon of an Ancient and Most Noble House in theory shared the responsibilities of the Head of House, but often in practice the Archon of Light side and Neutral houses carried out the distasteful duties of the Head of House, such as disciplining Family Members and other sworn subjects of the Head of House. It was a practice that most families had begun to abolish, but one Harry personally favored. He believed that if Jonas were given relative autonomy to carry out the more cruel deeds--which Harry left to his oldest son's discretion for now, but he had plans for tightening the leash in the coming years--he would be more reluctant to order them when he was the Head of House. That was the theory anyway, though Harry wasn't entirely sure whether or not the duties were actually hardening the gentle giant. But that was a worry for another time.
"I don't just mean that it would be within his rights--it'd be well within his abilities to do so. He's scarier than you ever were, you know," Draco said. His face took on a thoughtful expression,"Or maybe I'm just getting older," he added.
"You've certainly gotten wiser since you were his age, Draco," Harry responded. "Before I forget, How's the wife?"
"Pansy's the same as always, though perhaps a little upset that Scorpius is in Ravenclaw, rather than Slytherin. I never saw that coming, to be certain," he shook his head.
"There are always flukes, like Neville's oldest being sorted into Slytherin two years ago," Harry pointed out.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot about Francis. How is he, anyway?" Draco asked. While Neville hadn't been as forgiving at first as Harry--not that any of Harry's friends had been as forgiving as Harry himself--he had been willing to give Draco the benefit of the doubt.
"He's been doing good--aside from being the bane of Filch's existence, that is. He makes the Weasley twins look like Abbott and Costello--like a pair of bumbling fools, that is. So why was it you came here again...Oh, that's right. You came to say 'I told you so.' Save it. I've gotten that same line at least once a day since the coma.
"Actually, I just came to pay respects to my liege in his time of distress," Draco said. "My wife and I are there if you need us. Also, Pansy told me to tell you she could get you a date with her little sister if you wan--"
"I think I'll pass. For one, she's barely older than my daughter. For another, I wouldn't want to do anything to encourage her. She's bad enough in class as it is," Harry shuddered.
"Oh...right. Pansy neglected to remind me about that little detail," Draco said standing to leave. "Well, in that case, Imust take my leave. You know how to get a hold of me should something come up. I'll be seeing you around then."
"I do appreciate the sentiment, though, Draco," Harry said to his former nemesis, now a trusted advisor concerning the affairs of the House of Potter.
"One last thing, before you leave," Harry said as the blond wizard reached for the doorknob. "What was with the look you gave me on Platform 9 3/4?"
"Oh, I was just having a bad day, that's all," replied Draco.
"Mind if I ask why?"
"It's personal."
"Well, anyway, take care."
------
Ginny was frantically searching through any books she could get her hands on for spells she could use in the imminent duel. She already searched the Black library, the Weasley library (such as it was) and wasted two days searching the books in Harry's study for anything useful--and half of that time was spent leafing through a book titled /The Complete Arcane/. Unfortunately, though there were numerous fantastically powerful spells listed in it, the incantations were apparently bespelled to prevent anyone but Harry from reading them--and the spellwork for that was nothing short of remarkable, considering she could find no evidence of any concealment charms.
She was at wit's end. Sure, she could turn into a fox at will, but that wouldn't help her up on the astronomy tower. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid! Perhaps she could turn herself in to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? No, that wouldn't work--she'd still have to fight the duel and even if she won she'd be sent straight to Azkaban.
Now she was searching through every bookstore in Diagon and Knockturn Alley for anything that might contain spells that would help her against Hermione. She knew she would never manage an Unforgivable against Hermione, since, as much as she disliked the woman for stealing Harry from her, she was still unable to think of her as an enemy, as someone she could kill. She'd learned, from one of the first books she'd read in the Black library, that you REALLY had to mean the killing curse--particularly if the target was someone you knew, otherwise fond memories of the target were likely to interfere with the intent.
I'm so dead. But I mustn't give up...
------
As the days passed, reports of sounds resembling ablacksmith's shop were reported coming from Hermione's quarters, though the reports stopped shortly after the beginning of October.
During this time, Hermione would appear quite flushed every time she left her quarters. She was evasive when anyone asked her what she was doing, and observers sometimes described her as 'grim yet chipper,' when they caught her in unguarded moments.
All too soon, Halloween came. The Astronomy tower was literally sealed off. An hour before sundown, Hermione was making sure she had what she needed. /I've got my wand, I've got my 'special' surprise for Ginny/. A mischievous grin spread across her face. I wonder if there's time for...no, better not. I don't think Ginny and the duel overseer would appreciate having to wait while Harry and I have hot monkey sex.
------
The sky had been overcast all day, and as Hermione walked out onto the top of the Astronomy tower, the skies opened up, rain coming down in sheets. The duel overseer looked at her disapprovingly. "Cutting it awful close, aren't we?"
"Sorry," Hermione said.
The duel overseer held her gaze for a moment more before saying, "Now that both participants are here, I'll explain the rules. In an Honor Duel, there is no restriction on the spells you are allowed to cast, but if an unforgivable strikes a bystander you can be brought up on charges. Therefore, spectators are not allowed at these...events. I am more of an observer than an overseer in this case. Now, when the clock strikes the hour, you will begi--"
He was interrupted by the clock tower chiming.
"You'll need this," Hermione said, tossing asilvery-red dagger to her opponent. Ginny just cocked an eyebrow at her.
"/Imperio/," cried Hermione.
The redheaded woman was caught square in the chest by the curse. Slowly, as if pushing through wet sand, she reached for blade at her feet. As soon as she picked it up, she brought it to her left ear, and pushed her rain-soaked hair away, before she, in a single, fluid motion, sliced her ear off. Eerily silent, she then brought the tip to her left eye and delicately popped it out of socket, letting it hang for a few heartbeats before deftly slicing the optic nerve. As she moved the knife to her next target, she stepped on the eye, popping it with a sickening squelch. She then sliced all her fingers--including her thumb--off of her right hand. Still not done, she brought the blade to where her lower abdomen met her pubic area and impaled herself on the bade, destroying her womb. Blood streaming from several wounds, she brought the knife back to her face one last time and slowly, agonizingly, sliced off her own nose.
Hermione, satisfied with the results, released Ginny from the curse, whereupon the redhead immediately fell to her knees began to shriek in agony. Still, she continued to fight, or at least try to. Brandishing her wand in her left hand, she slowly rose to her feet, hoarsely crying, "Redu--"
She was cut off as Hermione cast an unknown spell whose effects made it seem a poorly cast cutting curse, but no one really knew what it was for sure, since she cast it silently. The spell caught Ginny on the left collar bone, slicing all the way through to her back, but apparently cauterizing the wound at the same time. The redhead's left arm fell useless to her side.
They stood there for a moment staring at each other. Finally, Ginny shrieked, "GO AHEAD, KILL ME! END IT ALL NOW!" The sound echoed oddly in the rain.
Hermione stared straight back at the woman she had once called her friend, her eyes burning with furious rage.
"No," she said, so coldly that the ministry observer shivered.
"What's the matter? Haven't got the guts?" Ginny goaded.
"Take a look at yourself. It would be an act of mercy to kill you now," Hermione responded.
"'Tis just a flesh wound," Ginny said mockingly."Nothing a few potions won't heal."
Hermione shook her head, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You don't think I'd force you to mutilate you for your own funeral, now would you? That knife has a few.../special/ enchantments applied to it. The wounds it gave you cannot be healed by muggle or magical means. However, when you die, which you can no longer do by suicide--another of the enchantments placed on the knife--all such wounds will disappear, you will be whole again. However, you can only die of natural causes. You cannot be murdered. You heal too quickly for that, and any sort of magic used to kill you will never quite do the trick, at least not permanently."
She paused, a sorrowful look on her face. "You are, for all intents and purposes, a zombie--albeit one with a heartbeat and conscious thoughts. A day will not pass where you don't think of where you went wrong. Consider it my gift to you, on behalf of Harry, for what you put him through.
"So, since you cannot be killed that leaves just one thing left to do. Stupefy!" and with that the youngest of the Generation X Weasley's collapsed into a pool of her own blood mixed with rainwater, the wounds that spilled it already closed.
With that last spell, sixteen years of anger, bitterness and resentment burned out of her, leaving her relieved, if a little sad for what she'd done to a woman she had until just two months ago called a friend.
------
An hour later found Hermione sitting in her bathtub leaning against Harry's muscular chest. She had just finished recounting the story of the duel.
"Remind me never to leave you of my own volition," Harry muttered, somewhere between awe and horror.
"I think I might be able to do that..." Hermione purred, turning around in his arms.
------
Ginevra Molly Weasley woke in the Spell Damage ward of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. The first sight that assaulted her eye--just the one--was the lime green robes of a healer. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Potter--"
"It's Weasley," Ginny croaked sorrowfully.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Weasley, but we couldn't break the charms, meaning your eye, ear, and nose will never grow back, nor will your fingers ever return. Your womb has been destroyed permanently. We were, however, able to restore your left arm," the man paused, "It was the best we could do, I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Ginny sighed. "I deserved what I got."
"What do you mean by that, Ms....Weasley," the healer said.
"I loved a man who would never love me back, and Itried to change that," Ginny said, almost to herself. "In the end, the rightful order reasserted itself."
She paused, thoughtful. "Can I have a mirror?"
"Are you sure you want to see yourself? It could be very jarring," the man said. Ginny looked at him, taking notice for the first time. He had a kind face, with straight, short blond hair, and pale blue eyes, the exact same shade of blue as the midday sky in July. He was perhaps nine years younger than herself.
"Yes, I'm sure. I need to see my face for myself," Ginny said.
"Here you go, ma'am," the young healer said holding a mirror out to her. "You might want to try your left hand," he added gently when she reached for the mirror with her right hand.
She took the mirror, hesitating for a split second before bringing it up and looking into it. /Could always be worse/, thought the woman once thought by many to be the most beautiful in the magical world. She could hide the missing ear with the right hairdo, and she now had a glass eye in her right eye socket. It looked real enough and mimicked the motion of her one real eye fairly accurately, so that wasn't that bad. The major problem was the nose--or rather the lack thereof which gave her face a rather skull-like appearance.
"Maybe when you get out we could go get a drink or something?" the Healer said as he left to check in on other patients.
"Maybe," Ginny said, not sure if he was just taking pity on her or if he really meant it. She was betting on the former.
Maybe he means it...maybe.
------
A/N: And so I end here. I know, it's a short chapter, but I didn't want to ramble on. I assume I'm gonna get razzed again for stopping right when it was getting to the 'good part,' but I can only write what I know, so unless you want a glimpse of what Ron was doing at that instant, I can't help you.
There is just the Grand Finale left, but it will probably be just as short as this, unfortunately. I am beginning work on a continuation titled (tentatively) "Harry Potter III: Seventh Son." That's Harry Potter III as in the son of Harry Potter Jr. I think I've posted the prologue for it by now, or will soon.
Soooo....
Questions? Comments? Plotholes? Just type them up in areview, and I'll get back to you when I damn well feel like it (Which will probably be soon).
Chapter 7: Losing Time
She dresses in black everyday
She keeps her hair simple and plain
She never wears makeup
But no one would care if she did anyway
--Dream Theater "Losing Time / Grand Finale"
For the next month and a half, Hermione barely spoke to anyone. When she wasn't teaching or at meals, she was sequestered in her quarters, working on something she wouldn't tell anyone about.
"Harry, can I have a sample of your blood?" Hermione asked after class was over, eight days after Harry woke from his coma.
"What do you need it for?" Harry inquired."If you don't mind me asking, that is."
"Can't tell you, but it's vitally important for my plans for the upcoming duel," Hermione said distractedly.
"At least give me a hint," pleaded Harry. As Hermione opened her mouth to protest, Harry added, "If you give me a hint, I'll give you the blood."
"Oh, alright, fine," Hermione sighed resignedly,"Let's just say you don't want James, Albus, or Lily to see the duel, and if all goes right, you may never want them to see Ginny again..."
Harry rolled up his sleeve, trying not to imagine the grisly fate that awaited his ex 'wife.'
Two days later Harry got another unexpected visitor."I told you Weaselette was bad news," Draco Malfoy drawled as Harry entered his office.
"How'd you get in here?" Harry said, shooing his visitor out of his chair.
"What, no, 'Glad to see you?' No, 'How have you been, old friend?' Where are your manners today?" Draco smirked, taking the seat across from Harry.
"Sorry, I've just been a little tired lately. Cheating death takes a lot out of you. So why weren't you at the deathbed vigil?" Harry asked.
"I came by, but you know how the Weasley's feel about me. It doesn't matter that I left the House of Malfoy and swore loyalty to the House of Potter, they'll always see me as the arrogant, blood purist, Death Eater wannabe asshole that nearly killed Dumbledore--"
"We both know you never came close to killing him," interrupted Harry.
"Doesn't matter to them. Anyway I showed up and apparently missed you waking up by ten minutes," Draco said.
"Well, at least Jonas thought to contact you. I just don't get it. Jonas trusts you, so why don't the Weasley's?" Harry shook his head.
"You know and I know that he only trusts me because he knows that I know that if I try anything on you, Hermione, or the Weasleys, that he'll break me in two--literally," Draco said.
"He'd be well within his right as the Potter family Archon," Harry replied, referring to the title usually given to the heir apparent of the Ancient and Most Noble Houses. The Archon of an Ancient and Most Noble House in theory shared the responsibilities of the Head of House, but often in practice the Archon of Light side and Neutral houses carried out the distasteful duties of the Head of House, such as disciplining Family Members and other sworn subjects of the Head of House. It was a practice that most families had begun to abolish, but one Harry personally favored. He believed that if Jonas were given relative autonomy to carry out the more cruel deeds--which Harry left to his oldest son's discretion for now, but he had plans for tightening the leash in the coming years--he would be more reluctant to order them when he was the Head of House. That was the theory anyway, though Harry wasn't entirely sure whether or not the duties were actually hardening the gentle giant. But that was a worry for another time.
"I don't just mean that it would be within his rights--it'd be well within his abilities to do so. He's scarier than you ever were, you know," Draco said. His face took on a thoughtful expression,"Or maybe I'm just getting older," he added.
"You've certainly gotten wiser since you were his age, Draco," Harry responded. "Before I forget, How's the wife?"
"Pansy's the same as always, though perhaps a little upset that Scorpius is in Ravenclaw, rather than Slytherin. I never saw that coming, to be certain," he shook his head.
"There are always flukes, like Neville's oldest being sorted into Slytherin two years ago," Harry pointed out.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot about Francis. How is he, anyway?" Draco asked. While Neville hadn't been as forgiving at first as Harry--not that any of Harry's friends had been as forgiving as Harry himself--he had been willing to give Draco the benefit of the doubt.
"He's been doing good--aside from being the bane of Filch's existence, that is. He makes the Weasley twins look like Abbott and Costello--like a pair of bumbling fools, that is. So why was it you came here again...Oh, that's right. You came to say 'I told you so.' Save it. I've gotten that same line at least once a day since the coma.
"Actually, I just came to pay respects to my liege in his time of distress," Draco said. "My wife and I are there if you need us. Also, Pansy told me to tell you she could get you a date with her little sister if you wan--"
"I think I'll pass. For one, she's barely older than my daughter. For another, I wouldn't want to do anything to encourage her. She's bad enough in class as it is," Harry shuddered.
"Oh...right. Pansy neglected to remind me about that little detail," Draco said standing to leave. "Well, in that case, Imust take my leave. You know how to get a hold of me should something come up. I'll be seeing you around then."
"I do appreciate the sentiment, though, Draco," Harry said to his former nemesis, now a trusted advisor concerning the affairs of the House of Potter.
"One last thing, before you leave," Harry said as the blond wizard reached for the doorknob. "What was with the look you gave me on Platform 9 3/4?"
"Oh, I was just having a bad day, that's all," replied Draco.
"Mind if I ask why?"
"It's personal."
"Well, anyway, take care."
------
Ginny was frantically searching through any books she could get her hands on for spells she could use in the imminent duel. She already searched the Black library, the Weasley library (such as it was) and wasted two days searching the books in Harry's study for anything useful--and half of that time was spent leafing through a book titled /The Complete Arcane/. Unfortunately, though there were numerous fantastically powerful spells listed in it, the incantations were apparently bespelled to prevent anyone but Harry from reading them--and the spellwork for that was nothing short of remarkable, considering she could find no evidence of any concealment charms.
She was at wit's end. Sure, she could turn into a fox at will, but that wouldn't help her up on the astronomy tower. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid! Perhaps she could turn herself in to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? No, that wouldn't work--she'd still have to fight the duel and even if she won she'd be sent straight to Azkaban.
Now she was searching through every bookstore in Diagon and Knockturn Alley for anything that might contain spells that would help her against Hermione. She knew she would never manage an Unforgivable against Hermione, since, as much as she disliked the woman for stealing Harry from her, she was still unable to think of her as an enemy, as someone she could kill. She'd learned, from one of the first books she'd read in the Black library, that you REALLY had to mean the killing curse--particularly if the target was someone you knew, otherwise fond memories of the target were likely to interfere with the intent.
I'm so dead. But I mustn't give up...
------
As the days passed, reports of sounds resembling ablacksmith's shop were reported coming from Hermione's quarters, though the reports stopped shortly after the beginning of October.
During this time, Hermione would appear quite flushed every time she left her quarters. She was evasive when anyone asked her what she was doing, and observers sometimes described her as 'grim yet chipper,' when they caught her in unguarded moments.
All too soon, Halloween came. The Astronomy tower was literally sealed off. An hour before sundown, Hermione was making sure she had what she needed. /I've got my wand, I've got my 'special' surprise for Ginny/. A mischievous grin spread across her face. I wonder if there's time for...no, better not. I don't think Ginny and the duel overseer would appreciate having to wait while Harry and I have hot monkey sex.
------
The sky had been overcast all day, and as Hermione walked out onto the top of the Astronomy tower, the skies opened up, rain coming down in sheets. The duel overseer looked at her disapprovingly. "Cutting it awful close, aren't we?"
"Sorry," Hermione said.
The duel overseer held her gaze for a moment more before saying, "Now that both participants are here, I'll explain the rules. In an Honor Duel, there is no restriction on the spells you are allowed to cast, but if an unforgivable strikes a bystander you can be brought up on charges. Therefore, spectators are not allowed at these...events. I am more of an observer than an overseer in this case. Now, when the clock strikes the hour, you will begi--"
He was interrupted by the clock tower chiming.
"You'll need this," Hermione said, tossing asilvery-red dagger to her opponent. Ginny just cocked an eyebrow at her.
"/Imperio/," cried Hermione.
The redheaded woman was caught square in the chest by the curse. Slowly, as if pushing through wet sand, she reached for blade at her feet. As soon as she picked it up, she brought it to her left ear, and pushed her rain-soaked hair away, before she, in a single, fluid motion, sliced her ear off. Eerily silent, she then brought the tip to her left eye and delicately popped it out of socket, letting it hang for a few heartbeats before deftly slicing the optic nerve. As she moved the knife to her next target, she stepped on the eye, popping it with a sickening squelch. She then sliced all her fingers--including her thumb--off of her right hand. Still not done, she brought the blade to where her lower abdomen met her pubic area and impaled herself on the bade, destroying her womb. Blood streaming from several wounds, she brought the knife back to her face one last time and slowly, agonizingly, sliced off her own nose.
Hermione, satisfied with the results, released Ginny from the curse, whereupon the redhead immediately fell to her knees began to shriek in agony. Still, she continued to fight, or at least try to. Brandishing her wand in her left hand, she slowly rose to her feet, hoarsely crying, "Redu--"
She was cut off as Hermione cast an unknown spell whose effects made it seem a poorly cast cutting curse, but no one really knew what it was for sure, since she cast it silently. The spell caught Ginny on the left collar bone, slicing all the way through to her back, but apparently cauterizing the wound at the same time. The redhead's left arm fell useless to her side.
They stood there for a moment staring at each other. Finally, Ginny shrieked, "GO AHEAD, KILL ME! END IT ALL NOW!" The sound echoed oddly in the rain.
Hermione stared straight back at the woman she had once called her friend, her eyes burning with furious rage.
"No," she said, so coldly that the ministry observer shivered.
"What's the matter? Haven't got the guts?" Ginny goaded.
"Take a look at yourself. It would be an act of mercy to kill you now," Hermione responded.
"'Tis just a flesh wound," Ginny said mockingly."Nothing a few potions won't heal."
Hermione shook her head, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You don't think I'd force you to mutilate you for your own funeral, now would you? That knife has a few.../special/ enchantments applied to it. The wounds it gave you cannot be healed by muggle or magical means. However, when you die, which you can no longer do by suicide--another of the enchantments placed on the knife--all such wounds will disappear, you will be whole again. However, you can only die of natural causes. You cannot be murdered. You heal too quickly for that, and any sort of magic used to kill you will never quite do the trick, at least not permanently."
She paused, a sorrowful look on her face. "You are, for all intents and purposes, a zombie--albeit one with a heartbeat and conscious thoughts. A day will not pass where you don't think of where you went wrong. Consider it my gift to you, on behalf of Harry, for what you put him through.
"So, since you cannot be killed that leaves just one thing left to do. Stupefy!" and with that the youngest of the Generation X Weasley's collapsed into a pool of her own blood mixed with rainwater, the wounds that spilled it already closed.
With that last spell, sixteen years of anger, bitterness and resentment burned out of her, leaving her relieved, if a little sad for what she'd done to a woman she had until just two months ago called a friend.
------
An hour later found Hermione sitting in her bathtub leaning against Harry's muscular chest. She had just finished recounting the story of the duel.
"Remind me never to leave you of my own volition," Harry muttered, somewhere between awe and horror.
"I think I might be able to do that..." Hermione purred, turning around in his arms.
------
Ginevra Molly Weasley woke in the Spell Damage ward of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. The first sight that assaulted her eye--just the one--was the lime green robes of a healer. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Potter--"
"It's Weasley," Ginny croaked sorrowfully.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Weasley, but we couldn't break the charms, meaning your eye, ear, and nose will never grow back, nor will your fingers ever return. Your womb has been destroyed permanently. We were, however, able to restore your left arm," the man paused, "It was the best we could do, I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Ginny sighed. "I deserved what I got."
"What do you mean by that, Ms....Weasley," the healer said.
"I loved a man who would never love me back, and Itried to change that," Ginny said, almost to herself. "In the end, the rightful order reasserted itself."
She paused, thoughtful. "Can I have a mirror?"
"Are you sure you want to see yourself? It could be very jarring," the man said. Ginny looked at him, taking notice for the first time. He had a kind face, with straight, short blond hair, and pale blue eyes, the exact same shade of blue as the midday sky in July. He was perhaps nine years younger than herself.
"Yes, I'm sure. I need to see my face for myself," Ginny said.
"Here you go, ma'am," the young healer said holding a mirror out to her. "You might want to try your left hand," he added gently when she reached for the mirror with her right hand.
She took the mirror, hesitating for a split second before bringing it up and looking into it. /Could always be worse/, thought the woman once thought by many to be the most beautiful in the magical world. She could hide the missing ear with the right hairdo, and she now had a glass eye in her right eye socket. It looked real enough and mimicked the motion of her one real eye fairly accurately, so that wasn't that bad. The major problem was the nose--or rather the lack thereof which gave her face a rather skull-like appearance.
"Maybe when you get out we could go get a drink or something?" the Healer said as he left to check in on other patients.
"Maybe," Ginny said, not sure if he was just taking pity on her or if he really meant it. She was betting on the former.
Maybe he means it...maybe.
------
A/N: And so I end here. I know, it's a short chapter, but I didn't want to ramble on. I assume I'm gonna get razzed again for stopping right when it was getting to the 'good part,' but I can only write what I know, so unless you want a glimpse of what Ron was doing at that instant, I can't help you.
There is just the Grand Finale left, but it will probably be just as short as this, unfortunately. I am beginning work on a continuation titled (tentatively) "Harry Potter III: Seventh Son." That's Harry Potter III as in the son of Harry Potter Jr. I think I've posted the prologue for it by now, or will soon.
Soooo....
Questions? Comments? Plotholes? Just type them up in areview, and I'll get back to you when I damn well feel like it (Which will probably be soon).
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