FicWad

(Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or CSI, nor anything else contained within these pages. No infringement is intended.)
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The room was almost deserted, a rare occurrence to be sure. He was thankful, otherwise he would not have been able to sense the coming change. He allowed himself a small smile and focused his eyes on the corner to the room before reclaiming his post. The air was shimmering. It was quite faint, almost unnoticeable really. One would overlook it completely if one did not know what to look for, and where.

"Oof!" Hermione felt her hip slam against the corner of the bed. She struggled to support the near dead weight of Greg slumped against her when they had both materialized. Greg took his arm off her shoulder and, bracing it against the frame of the bed, pushed away, attempting to stand on his own. "Sorry ‘bout that," Greg said blushing, "it’s been a long time since I had to do that." Hermione, utterly oblivious, stated worriedly, "I didn’t know this was going to happen, I swear." Greg blinked, and took in his surroundings, scowling, "sure you didn’t. What happened to ‘hexing me yourself’?" he asked dryly.

It was dark in the room, much darker than Hermione could ever remember it being. ‘But it’s morning…’ Hermione pondered. The windows all were shuttered; the curtains tightly closed. ‘They’ve blocked out the sun,’ Hermione gasped as the situation became clear. "We’re too late," she whispered hoarsely, overcome by emotion. Hermione’s eyes darted around the room, unseeing. Tears formed as her sight focused first on Greg, his face frozen in fear, and then on the bed, behind the closed screens. "We’re too late," she whispered again, the tears freely falling, unheeded. ‘Not again," Greg thought, imprisoned in his memories, ‘I can’t do this again.’ Greg moved forward slowly, almost against his will, towards the screened bed. Greg grasped the edge of the screen, inhaling deeply and screwing his eyes shut at what might be revealed, he exhaled sharply as he pushed the screen off to the side.

Dumbledore stood quietly as the screen clattered to the floor, and looking past the man who stood before him, searched the darkness of the room. "Ah, Miss Granger, you’ve returned." Professor Dumbledore moved away from the bed, allowing Greg and Hermione an unencumbered view of the occupant. Hermione closed her eyes and relaxed, 'I haven’t failed,’ she thought regaining her composure. As Professor Snape’s chest rose and fell, drawing breath after breath, Greg snapped out of his daze enough to glare in Dumbledore’s direction. Professor Dumbledore accepted his gaze with calm equanimity, "Gregori," Dumbledore spoke at last, "It’s good to see you." Greg rolled his eyes at the overture, "oddly enough, I didn’t seem to have much choice in the matter." Hermione avoided Greg’s searching look as it swept over her. Dumbledore sighed, "nevertheless," Dumbledore said, as Greg moved closer to Snape’s bedside, "it is good that you are here."

Greg reached out and gently held his hand against Professor Snape’s forehead, wincing at the chill he felt there. "You don’t have much time," Dumbledore prodded. Greg pulled his hand away fast, as though Snape had caught fire. Greg turned to face Professor Dumbledore, his eyes tight with pain, "What do you expect me to do?" he asked, belligerently. ‘So much torment, and this time at my behest,’ Dumbledore acknowledged silently, feeling pangs of remorse, "you’ll think of something, I’m sure," said Dumbledore confidently, "ingenuity, innovation and," Professor Dumbledore paused, searching for the correct word, smiling as he discovered it, "and invention always were a particular talent of yours."Greg growled under his breath at the oblique reference to his history. "Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore ordered gently, "perhaps it would be best for you to return to the Gryffindor tower, to recuperate." Hermione was somewhat stung by this abrupt dismissal and stood rooted to the floor, "Sir, perhaps I could …," Hermione was cut off by Dumbledore’s assertion, "rest, Miss Granger." Dumbledore began to herd Greg towards the exit, leaving Greg no choice but to follow. As Greg brushed past Hermione he smirked, and leaning over he whispered in her ear, "I told you, you were just a lure." With that parting shot, Professor Dumbledore led Greg out of the hospital wing, heading towards an undisclosed location.

Madame Pomfrey entered the infirmary only moments after Dumbledore had exited with Greg in tow. She was in the process of opening the windows and dowsing the lamps when she noticed Hermione sitting, in the chair Dumbledore had so recently vacated, at Professor Snape’s side. Hermione was staring intently at the patient, as though trying to will him into health between yawns. "Visiting our patient, Miss Granger?" Madame Pomfrey asked quietly. Hermione almost jumped in fright, her concentration shattered. "Yes, erm," Hermione began, "how is he?" she asked lamely, cringing inwardly. "Not well," replied Madame Pomfrey frustrated, "if he continues losing blood .... and, besides the phoenix tears, nothing I’ve tried has worked," continued Madame Pomfrey, "he’s not healing, he’s just lingering. Frankly, it’s a wonder he’s lasted this long," she finished, almost resigned.

"His magic, it’s strong," Hermione stated with assurance, "I think that’s the key, it’s keeping him alive, barely. If it had been a muggle who was attacked, they wouldn’t have stood a chance; death would have been instantaneous. However, with regards to Professor Snape, well it’s like you said, Madame Pomfrey," Hermione was struck by sudden insight, "he’s lingering; the forces at work inside him, they’re balanced, it could still go either way. We just need something to tip the scales in the right direction." Madame Pomfrey was discomfited by the seeming nonsense Hogwarts prize pupil was currently spouting. "Theories are all well and good, Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey spoke sharply, "but, and it pains me no end to say this, we have no aid to give. No one has ever survived a gryphon attack." "Not yet," said Hermione, grinning, with a feverish gleam in her eye, "Snape will, he must. He has promises to keep."

Hermione stood abruptly and marched towards the door. "Miss Granger. Where are you going?" asked Madame Pomfrey, concerned by the abrupt turn of events. Hermione paused in the doorway, "to my room, to sleep. Professor Dumbledore was right," Hermione replied faintly, drained by her revelation, "I need to rest." "Would you like a sleeping potion, dear?" questioned Madame Pomfrey, attributing Hermione’s previous behaviour to nervous exhaustion. Hermione yawned as she replied, "No thank you. I’m almost tired enough to fall asleep right here." Yawning again, Hermione continued walking out of the infirmary and on through the halls. Around her students and paintings bustled with the usual weeks end energy. Hermione was oblivious to it all. ‘Rest first,’ Hermione thought sleepily, ‘then research. The library has to have books on Gryphons, something everyone else has overlooked, probably in a footnote somewhere,’ Hermione grumbled, ‘people never stop to read the footnotes.’

Hermione stopped walking, and looked up, startled at her whereabouts. She had reached Gryffindor tower without paying any attention at all to her surroundings. ‘You’re just lucky you didn’t run into any Slytherins,’ Hermione’s inner voice chided, sounding an awful lot like Mrs. Weasley, ‘you’d have been no match for them, the state you’re in.’ "Late night, dear?" the Fat Lady asked, interrupting Hermione’s inner monologue, well aware that Hermione had been decidedly elsewhere for most of the night. Hermione stared bleary eyed at the figure in the painting, ‘is it just me or does she look eager for …. stupid, gossipy paintings.’ "I was at the hospital wing," Hermione said adamantly, "ask Madame Pomfrey." "I’m sure you were dear," said the Fat Lady, with a knowing smile, clearly not believing a word Hermione had said, "password?" asked the Fat Lady, finally getting down to business. Hermione sighed, ‘fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony.’ "Feles domestica," she announced, and the door swung open, allowing Hermione to escape the prying eyes of the door's guardian. Hermione’s thoughts quickly returned to their previous train, ‘rest, then research.’ Hermione’s voice echoed as the door clicked shut behind her, sealing her within the safety of the Gryffindor quarters, "I’ll show him."

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