Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Victim of the Fall	By : PrettyDesdemona Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 32726 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe or any of its characters. I do not make any money off this story. Only love!

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
CHAPTER 18

PARAMETRES

“However invincible you imagine yourself to be, you are wrong.”

The first thing Hermione felt was warmth.

She noticed the quiet. There were hushed voices murmuring a long way away.

A warm, yellow light was tapping on the outside of her closed eyelids. The sun.

She was comfortable. The world was soft. So soft that she wanted to melt back into it. She wanted to go back to sleep.

Then something crawled through the fog like some kind of grotesque, half decayed monster. The memory hit her.

Cold skin. Freezing, black water. Her hands tangled in yellow hair. No pulse, no heartbeat.

Isobel.

Hermione opened her mouth and screamed so loudly that it burnt her throat. The sound was cut off abruptly as, in a fierce, desperate attempt to save itself, her mind fled her body.

The world faded to black again.

“Granger?”

Someone was shaking her. She knew that voice. She knew her name on that tongue.

“Granger, wake up.”

The shaking got rougher. It made a bell in her head clang painfully. Hermione opened her eyes if only to make the clanging stop.

There was Malfoy, ghostlike and tired. And beyond him a ceiling she’d recognise anywhere. She was in the hospital wing. The light was candle light now. It was night.

“Can you hear me?” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He kept looking over his shoulder like he wasn’t supposed to be there.

Hermione didn’t respond, instead she just looked into his cold, grey eyes. He looked tired, he looked like she felt.

Then he said something that made her spirit contract and burn inside her body.

“Granger. You saved her.” he waited for her to say something. She didn’t. “Isobel is alive.”

He pointed to something to the left of her bed.

Hermione turned her head. A few cots along, there was something there. Hermione pulled back her sheets and sat up slowly, never taking her eyes off the something, as if it might disappear in a puff of smoke if she looked away. Her feet swung out of her bed and touched the cold, stone floor. She stood.

Malfoy moved to her side, his hand hovering by the small of her back, letting her know he was ready to catch her should she fall. She began to hobble down the ward, her feet slapping on the floor.

Hermione reached the something and her breath stopped.

It was Isobel. No longer blue, no longer lifeless. Her chest was rising and falling peacefully, blonde hair fanned out around her head like a halo.

Blankly, Hermione extended her hand to lay a fingertip on Isobel’s forearm. It wasn’t cold or wet or hard. It felt like Isobel always felt. Like a person, not a body.

She delicately and slowly drew back the blankets of her friend’s bed and climbed into it, pressing the length of her body into Isobel’s warmth. Her arm draped across her friend’s stomach.

Hermione felt and heard Draco behind her, settling himself into a chair beside the bed with a sigh.

She closed her eyes and slept on, hoping she could have this dream every night for the rest of her life.

When Hermione woke again, she was alone in her bed, just as she’d expected. The hospital wing was quiet and bright with light. She could see through the windows that snow was falling softly, white noise in the air.

She lay on her side, her tears soaking the pillow under her head. She made no sound, but her grief didn’t need sound, it just flowed on, like a river, noiseless and pervasive.

Hermione didn’t know where her mind was, but she guessed it was somewhere drowning on the riverbed. She didn’t know what to do with the desolation she was feeling. She wanted to make use of it, to hit something, fuck something, scream at something. If someone had come to her at that moment with a needle full of heroin, she would have held out her arm and begged. She needed some other kind of oblivion because the one she’d created for herself just wasn’t doing the job.

This was past too much, past her endurance and her strength. She’d lost a lot. Her parents were halfway across the earth and had no idea she existed. They were lost to her. Harry was lost, Ron was lost. And now Isobel was lost.

How could fate have treated her thus? What lesson did it feel she needed to learn? Why did it insist on keeping her so alone?

Hermione did something then that she had never done in her life. She prayed.

Her hands clasped under her chin , her eyes clenched shut as tears leaked out the corners, wetting her face.

“Hello, God? It’s me, Hermione…” she breathed, holding the choking sobs at bay.

And she began.

She prayed that Harry would lose his mind and find peace in its absence. She prayed that Ron would move to Tahiti and meet a simple woman who could love him and help him forget everything. She prayed Isobel was with her father, that she was at peace. She prayed that George would take his twin’s soul into himself and be both of them, the world needed that. She prayed Molly and Arthur would die happy and old, far away from the pain of the war. She prayed for each and every member of her tovarasi, for Teodora, for Graham, for her parents, for Narcissa Malfoy, for Professor McGonagall, for Gypsy, Ebony, Noah and Felix. She prayed they would not see the things she’d seen, that their world would be joyful.

Hermione prayed that Malfoy would go back to being a bigoted arsehole. His life would be so much easier like that. Ignorance was bliss after all.

She prayed, begged, pleaded, that they would all be happy, contented, peaceful. She asked that the powers that be gave her the pain they’d meant for all these people. Hermione would open up her life to accommodate it, if only she knew that they were all ok.

If she could have those things, she could deal with Isobel’s death.

But if the world stayed the same, she didn’t know what she could do except follow her friend.

Hermione buried her head further into the pillow as she heard footsteps and voices entering the ward through the large doors behind her. She didn’t want to talk to anyone ever again. She took a few deep breaths, working to control her breathing, to seem as if she was still asleep.

As the voices drew closer, she began to make out parts of the conversation.

“I don’t understand, it’s been over a week.”

Hermione knew that voice. There was Malfoy again. Didn’t he have anything better to do?

“She will wake, in time.”

That was Teodora.

“How can you be so sure?” asked Malfoy. He sounded fretful, anxious. Hermione wondered if they were talking about her. But they couldn’t be. It hadn’t been a week since… since…

“I trust her.” Teodora replied simply.

More footsteps and then another voice joined them, Madam Pomfrey’s.

“I’ve just spoken to the mind healer. He will come up and take a look at her after he’s seen to the other girl.” she said, in her brisk tone.

“How is she?” asked Teodora.

“Oh, better than I would have expected. She’s agreed to ongoing sessions, thank Merlin. She is most eager to see her friend.”

Malfoy again, “Well, why doesn't she?”

“Hermione needs to be left alone for now, I think. Her reaction to your news last Tuesday was not quite what we’d hoped for, Mr Malfoy.”

“She needed to know.” he said dismissively.

“Yes, well, she didn’t seem to believe it though did she?” said Madam Pomfrey.

There was silence for a few moments after that. Hermione could make neither heads nor tails of their conversation but she was too deep in her pain to care properly. Whether they were talking about her or not, it didn’t matter now.

When Malfoy spoke again, his voice was louder and Hermione realised he was right behind her.

“I’ll stay with her.” was all he said.

“Draco you must eat.” said Teodora’s soft voice.

“I’ll eat when she does.” he said forcefully.

No one responded to this statement. Hermione heard footsteps moving away from her and the rustle of parchment. The doors into the hospital wing closed with a thud and Malfoy settled himself down into a chair beside her bed. Hermione was grateful that she had her back to him, hopefully he would get bored by her persistent sleeping and go away.

“I’ve been reading Bastet’s Line.” he said quietly. Hermione realised he was speaking now, directly to her. “And I’ve been thinking. I’d like you to brew the Virtus Lucis for me. If you wake up.” he paused for a minute, as if expecting her to grant his wish. When she didn’t he sighed and continued, “I’m still looking for information on the Zeitei Otrava too. I went down Knockturn Alley on the weekend. There’s a bookshop down there that has some pretty unsavoury stuff. I’m sure you’d love it. But there was nothing on the potion. I checked at home too, but the Manor’s library is just full of more stuff like the book I gave you the other day. Don’t give up hope though… We’ll get that recipe, even if we have to go to Romania for it.”

His words her stilted, awkward, like he wasn’t really thinking about what was coming out of his mouth. He sank into silence for a while and Hermione felt a rush of confusion. Why was Malfoy sitting by her bed? Didn’t he realise that even if she was conscious, she didn’t want to talk to anyone? Didn’t want anyone around her? The sound of his voice grated on her raw nerves. She’d rather be alone, kneeling at the altar of the cathedral in her mind, mourning the dead and the living. Mourning the people she’d lost.

But he didn't go away. He kept right on talking.

“Everyone’s been asking about you. The tovarasi doesn’t seem to work without you around. They miss you.” he said and then suddenly laughed sarcastically, “I don't know what you do to make people care for you the way they do, Hermione.”

More silence. Then…

“I know Isobel misses you…”

Hermione opened her eyes. “Don’t talk about her like she’s alive.” she rasped.

The chair he occupied scraped caustically on the stone floor and Malfoy suddenly appeared in front of her. There were dark rings under his eyes and his face had a gaunt look to it. He yanked at her hands, holding her wrists in his fists. His grip was tight. It hurt.

“She is, Granger! She is alive!” he said fiercely, urgently.

Hermione shook her head minutely and closed her eyes. He was lying. She wanted to go back to sleep.

“No! Don’t you dare shut me out!” he growled savagely.

He dragged her into a sitting position roughly, the sheets falling away from her body. Hermione whimpered and struggled but he held firm. Her head spun strangely as blood rushed to her face. He stared into her eyes, his large hands still wrapped around her wrists. There was a vein pulsing in his neck.

“Listen to me! If you ever listen to anything I say then, for the love of god, listen to this! Isobel. Is. Alive!”

A tiny flame of hope flared inside Hermione’s heart. The pain in her wrists from his grip was real. His breath on her face was real. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a dream.

“How?” she asked, her voice scraping against her throat. “She was so cold…”

“Of course she was fucking cold, Granger. You’d just pulled her from a frozen lake! You were both cold!”

Hermione shook her head, trying to clear it of the sleepy fog that was blanketing her senses, “Don’t understand.”

Malfoy released her wrists and laughed harshly.

“How you ever got to the top of our year, I’ll never know. Use your head, Granger! What do you think killed Isobel? Hypothermia? Because that’s the only thing she could have gotten from being submerged in icy water… I don’t know what your perception of it was but she was only in there for, what? Ten minutes? People don’t die from hypothermia in ten minutes.”

Hermione felt overwhelmingly tired again, and still confused. She’d been so sure…

“I don’t believe you. If it had only been that long, why didn’t she wake up when I grabbed a hold of her?”

Malfoy looked slightly uncomfortable. He stood and went to stand by the foot of her bed, resting his hands on the iron bar at her feet.

“She took a sleeping potion before she went in.”

“Oh.” said Hermione, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. This knowledge had only confirmed what she already knew, it had indeed been an suicide attempt. Hermione stared into his eyes.

“Tell me everything.” she ground out.

Malfoy held her gaze for a moment before he began pacing in front of her, hands in his pockets.

He proceeded to tell her of how he had pulled her from the lake, of how she had told him Isobel was dead and he’d believed it at first, until he’d heard the younger girl coughing and Teodora muttering frantic incantations, her wand waving over Isobel’s body. He’d tried to tell Hermione that she’d been wrong but Hermione was already catatonic. Not long after that she had passed out, despite his efforts to keep her awake. The teachers and the tovarasi had taken her and Isobel up to the hospital wing where Padma, Madam Pomfrey and Teodora had worked frantically to stabilise both girls who had chronic hypothermia. Isobel had woken up the following day, but Hermione had fallen into a sort of coma much to the distress of those around her.

“That was a week ago.” he finished with a sigh.

“What day is it?” asked Hermione in consternation.

“Monday, December 9^th.” he replied.

Hermione gawked at him. She had been sleeping for a whole week?

Malfoy laughed, “You can be pretty stubborn you know. Teodora says she thinks you went into the long sleep, as she calls it, all on your own. Apparently there was no other medical explanation for it.”

Hermione nodded, yes that did sound like her. After a moment, she looked up at him again, “Did anyone find out why Isobel did it?” she asked, her voice strained. She didn’t particularly want to know the answer but not wanting to know is what had led her to ignore Isobel’s original distress, for which she would never forgive herself.

“I think it’s probably best if I let Isobel tell you that herself.” said Malfoy sternly.

Hermione nodded sombrely. Strangely, she still felt tired. She wanted Malfoy to leave so she could go back to sleep. She didn’t know how to feel. All of the previous emotions were still roiling around in her body, the grief and despair were still at large. Those were not feelings that could be easily discarded. Somewhere, waiting in the wings, behind a little ray of hope was an insane, manic happiness. But Hermione wasn’t going to let that particular beast out of its cage without irrefutable proof in front of her eyes. She knew Malfoy wasn’t lying and she wasn’t dreaming, logically those things made sense in her head. If she thought about it, she should have known that Isobel had survived, really. Harry had dived into an icy pool to retrieve the sword of Gryffindor last year, and he’d been fine.

But for some reason none of this was reaching her heart. There was still a blanket of sleepy fog hanging over her mind, dulling her sharp intellect. She didn’t feel what Malfoy was saying. No matter how fervently he tried to tell her Isobel was alive, she knew she wouldn’t properly believe it until she could wrap her arms around her best friend and feel Isobel’s heart beat against her breast.

These ruminations reminded her of something.

“I had a dream about you.” she said abruptly to Malfoy who had collapsed into the chair beside her bed that he had previously occupied.

“Oh?” he smirked, “Should I be concerned?”

Hermione ignored him. The dynamic of their relationship had changed somehow and she found she couldn’t just roll her eyes at his sardonic humour right then. There were too many other things cluttering up her mind space.

“You woke me up and you told me Isobel was alive. She was here in the ward and I went to her.” Hermione turned her head away from Malfoy to stare down the hospital wing towards where Isobel had slept in her dream. “I got into bed with her. It was so lucid. I could feel her skin and smell her hair…” her voice was distant as the memory presented itself to the forefront of her mind for perusal.

“That wasn’t a dream.” he said. “That happened two nights after the lake.”

Hermione looked at him, seeing again how tired he seemed. He looked about ready to pass out in his chair.

“Why were you there? It was night… Why were you by my bed?” she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

To her surprise, Malfoy shifted in his chair uncomfortably, not meeting her eyes. After a moment he stood.

“I should go and inform Teodora you’re awake. She’d want to know.”

He did not wait for Hermione to respond, simply striding out of the hospital wing without a backwards glance.

Hermione knew she should have been completely perplexed by his behaviour but she didn’t have the room in her head. Malfoy could do whatever he liked, right then she ceased to care. There were too many other things to think about.

Once she was alone again in the ward, she swung her legs out of the bed. As tired as she was, her body was aching with atrophy and she wanted to stretch out some of her muscles. The stone floor was cold under her bare feet. She looked down and saw, to her gratitude, that someone had put her in her favourite quidditch jersey. The only thing she wore on her bottom half was her underwear but the jersey hung low enough to cover the parts of her that she was most modest about.

She pattered over to one of the long windows on the far side of the ward, stumbling now and then, her legs weak from disuse. The window overlooked the lake. Hermione stared down at it, her head resting on the ice cold glass.

It all felt like a dream. In fact, she felt as if she were in a dream right now. Her last memory before her long sleep had been so chaotic, so distraught. It seemed unnatural and wrong that she was in a place so peaceful now. The ward was quiet and warm. It didn’t feel right. Her mind and emotions were in chaos.

She wanted to go home, she wanted to get out of this place. She needed some stability right then. Hermione was a very literal person really, and emotions weren’t literal at all. She was sick of dealing with figurative concepts and feelings. And everything inside her mind was figurative. Hermione used to believe only in what she could see and touch. But that had changed somewhere along the way. It was this eventuality that had led her to sink into despair and believe Isobel was dead. She’d let her emotions lead her, not her head.

“It's time to believe in what you know,” she said quietly to herself as she stared down at the lake.

But what exactly did she know now? It had been easy to know things during the war, everything was so black and white, or if it wasn’t she hadn’t realised. People were dying left front and centre, people didn’t survive. Naturally, she would have assumed Isobel hadn’t either. Black or white. You lived or you died. There was no in between, no healing from an injury. Harry seemed to be the only exception to that particular rule.

Now, in the post-war maelstrom, nothing was as it seemed, everything and everyone had a trigger hidden somewhere and she had no idea who her friends were anymore. She was walking through her life blindfolded.

So perhaps it was time she started establishing certain things in her own mind. She couldn’t articulate what she knew at that point, but she’d work damn hard until she could. She would believe in what she knew. She didn’t need strength to be strong. She was going to accept, properly, where she was at. And all the other applicable affirmations.

Hermione’s contemplation of the window pane and her inner thoughts were suddenly interrupted as the door to the ward swung open and a small sea of people cascaded into the room. She instantly wanted to cringe down and hide under a bed until they all went away. Panic was burning up her spine. But she remained standing, simply cowering slightly into the bad behind her as if she hoped it might swallow her up.

The eyes of her tovarasi, minus Isobel and Malfoy, swept the ward until they found her standing by the window. As one, they immediately began rushing towards her, each grinning widely and shouting words of greeting. Hermione felt weak at the knees.

Teodora brought up the rear, puffing slightly. “Wait! Give her space!”

The group stopped short, looking sheepish. The hospital wing still rang with the sounds of their excited exclamations.

“Hi.” said Hermione, waving feebly.

The tovarasi looked at Teodora guiltily then converged on Hermione as one and she found herself instantly buried under a crowd of people, hugging her and talking at her all at once.

She found laughter spilling out of her mouth despite the panic, despite herself.

“Hermione! It’s so good to see you!”

“We were so worried!”

“Are you ok?”

Her voice didn’t seem to be working. She was floundering between nodding and shaking her head dumbly as the group continued to barrage her with questions and support.

Abruptly the noise stopped. Hermione looked over the shoulders of her friends and saw Teodora, staring at her with relieved tears in her eyes. Behind Teodora was Malfoy wearing an unreadable expression. And behind him, Isobel.

She was standing in the doorway to the ward, looking frail but otherwise unhurt.

The fierce, manic happiness Hermione had been keeping under lock and key suddenly filled her body, flowing out of every pore. She smiled, wide and unabashed, and moved away from the group.

Isobel wasn’t smiling. She looked scared and guilty.

Hermione stared at her for a fraction of a second as the happiness flowed right into the tips of her fingers and toes, before she ran to her friend. Isobel’s face only registered shock for the merest of seconds before Hermione flung her arms around her.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks as the very real scent of Isobel’s shampoo filled her nostrils.

“I need you.” she said so only Isobel could hear, “You’re not obsolete to me.”

Isobel nodded. Hermione pulled away slightly and lay a hand over Isobel’s heart. She felt it thud against her palm. Even her liver was smiling.

Two hours later, Madam Pomfrey had cleared Hermione and reluctantly allowed her to leave the hospital wing, with the assurance that she would return within the day to see the mind healer that had come from St Mungos.

Hermione dissected herself from her frantically happy tovarasi with difficulty, and headed up to the astronomy tower, Isobel at her side.

Blanketed by a warming charm, cloaks and scarves, the two girls sat in silence, staring out over the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione avoided looking at the lake. She could almost see the dark patch where she had dragged her friend from the water, even though it had long since frozen over and been covered with snow.

After some time, Isobel produced a small flask from the folds of her cloak. “Malfoy gave this to me.”

She unscrewed the lid, took a swig and handed it to Hermione who sniffed the contents. Firewhisky. Typical.

She took a sip all the same, the liquid burning down her throat and lighting a fire in her stomach. She coughed a little and handed it back to Isobel.

The happiness she had felt hours ago had mostly evaporated to be replaced by a soul crushing fear. She didn’t know what to do to help her friend now. Isobel had survived her attempt but what if she tried again?

“I feel better now, if that’s any consolation.” said Isobel, typically interpreting the reason behind Hermione’s silence.

Hermione sighed and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to will the tears away. “But what about tomorrow? What about next week, next year? I can’t be here to watch you all the time.”

“I don’t need you to watch me.” said Isobel defiantly.

“Well, someone has to!” Hermione said desperately. “What other option is there?! You can't try and do something like that and just expect people to forget about it and move on!”

“I don’t expect that! But, well, it’s me isn’t it? I’ve got to be the one who does something.” she took a deep breath, “I’m going to see a mind healer. Once a week. Hopefully that will help.”

“I need it to help.” said Hermione, “I can’t do that again. I can’t think I’ve lost you again.”

“Perhaps you should see one too.” said Isobel quietly.

Hermione scoffed, “I do not need counselling.”

“Oh what a fine example you lead.” Isobel said bitterly.

“Look, I’m managing, alright?!” Hermione snapped.

“You were just in a self induced coma for a whole week, Hermione, I’d hardly called that managing.”

“Yeah, well that’s only because I thought my best friend had fucking killed herself!”

Isobel ducked her head, her blonde hair swinging to cover her face. Hermione could see tears falling on the younger girl’s cloak. She felt guilt clawing through her stomach.

“I’m sorry. That was cruel.” said Hermione sincerely, scooting closer to her friend and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“S’alright,” Isobel sniffed. “I understand… I reckon if you tried, I’d probably kill you myself.”

Isobel gave Hermione a watery smile.

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm her roiling emotions. She decided then, to ask the million pound question.

“I’d just like to know one thing, then we don’t have to talk about it anymore, ok?” Isobel nodded and Hermione continued, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but… Why did you do it?”

Isobel looked up at Hermione and smiled reassuringly, “It’s ok… I don’t mind telling you… It was a lot of things. My father’s birthday, the things people have been saying… Stupid stuff really. It was all my thinking, I convinced myself to do it. And honestly, I don’t know that I properly wanted to in the first place. Just… Something sort of happened… And it just threw me over the edge.”

Hermione looked at the younger girl seriously, “What? What happened? Did someone do something to you?”

Isobel shook her head. “No, no, nothing like that…” she suddenly brought her hands up to cover her face, “Oh, Hermione it’s so stupid!”

“I’m sure it isn’t. Please tell me.” Hermione said kindly.

Isobel wore a pained expression on her face. “Well… I was already feeling quite bad and… Oh god, I don’t know if I can say it…” she took a couple of deep breaths, “Alright. Malfoy didn’t come back to the dormitory on Sunday night.”

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, this was not what she’d expected to hear. “What?”

“He… He didn’t come back and I knew he was with you and…” Isobel stared at Hermione guiltily.

Dots began to connect in Hermione’s head.

“And… You thought…? He and I?” Hermione stammered.

Isobel nodded. “It’s so stupid. Spectacularly fucking stupid.”

“You like him?” asked Hermione in a quiet voice. Of course, Blaise had said as much that day they’d shared breakfast. But once Hermione had actually taken the time to get to know Isobel, all her bad opinions of the girl had fallen away. She’d quite simply forgotten that little piece of information after she’d discovered that Isobel was a decent person under all of her snobbery.

“I do…” said the younger girl, pain evident in her voice.

Hermione began shaking her head fervently ,“I would never, I swear. Isobel, that is so not going to happen.” Never, in a million years would it happen. Hermione would rather chew glass.

Isobel sighed and gave Hermione a small smile. “It doesn’t really matter now. I’m over it.”

“What? You’re just over it? When a week ago you were…?” she said indignantly.

“Yes.” Isobel said firmly, “See, it’s not about how you feel, Hermione, it’s about how he feels.”

Hermione laughed disbelievingly, “I can assure you, he doesn’t feel anything. Not for me anyway.”

Isobel did not share in Hermione’s laughter, instead she just looked at her seriously, “I don’t think that’s true. He sat by your bed for a week, he dragged you from the lake. He wasn’t bending over me trying to resuscitate me, he went to you.”

Hermione didn’t know what to say to this. She felt incredibly conflicted over everything Isobel was telling her. She knew only too well the way that one little thing could tip someone over the edge, that was not difficult to understand. After all, her own attempt at self harm had happened over something as insignificant as the bad choice she’d made to hook up with George. No, what she found difficult to put in order in her head, was Isobel’s feelings towards Malfoy and his apparent feelings for Hermione. She felt like she’d betrayed her friend by getting close to him. And she didn’t for a second believe that Malfoy might care for her, Hermione, at all. He treated her with barely concealed disdain ninety nine percent of the time and the remaining one percent was only for when she’d made him a half decent cup of tea.

Isobel, again, accurately judged Hermione’s frown. “It’s alright. I don’t want you to feel guilty. I don’t really care what you feel for him, I’m not the jealous type. But I can see very clearly what he wants and that’s what hurts.” she sighed, “But like I said, I’m done with that now. I clearly have far bigger things to worry about.”

Hermione nodded, feeling like this was probably true. She then remembered what Malfoy had said when she’d asked him why Isobel had tried to kill herself. I think it’s probably best if I let Isobel tell you that herself.

“You told him about it.” said Hermione. It wasn’t a question.

Isobel nodded.

“What did he say?” Hermione asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

“I don’t think it’s really my place to tell you.” said Isobel quietly.

Unfortunately, this was answer enough.

A/N PLEASE READ!

Hello my lovelies!

Chapter 19 will be a special holiday chapter! It will be all Christmassy themed and I will be publishing it on the 25th. SO I have a special gift for you all. For anyone who reads and reviews chapter 19 before I post chapter 20, I will then read and review one of their Harry Potter stories! This is my gift to you!

Also, I have given up, for now, on the video replies. I cannot work out my fucking camera. They will be coming at some point just not yet!

So I will reply to all the lovely things you have written here :)

Sailor Sol - I've tried looking you up on ff.net but I can't find you! Perhaps review my story there so I know who you are? Also, I tried emailing you but that also did not work lol.

Kain - If you ever post a short review, I'll throw myself off a bridge. I love long reviews! Writing Harry like that was really quite hard, you know, because in the end I WANT him to be all happy and healed. But that's just not life is it? And I have to write life as it is.

I love the parallel you drew there with the scene from the Deathly Hallows, I hadn't thought of that!

Yes I am loving the Hermione and Isobel relationship too. And no, they're not lesbians! Lol. Though I can understand why you went there. Isobel is loosely based on my best friend and we're quite intimate like that too, but not sexual lol.

Yes... Apicem... Keep your eye out for that one hehehe.

Regarding Isobel... I'm very sorry. Your compliments were so lovely that I almost wanted to go and change the entire story so she'd actually died!!! I'd been planning this since the beginning, the crucial 'holy fuck this is what we're dealing with' moment... God I feel bad. Please don't stop reading! I can't lose your wonderful reviews, Kain!! )':

Tori - I'm sorry to hear you've been sick! I hope you're feeling better now. Yay! And I got the gift of more of your wonderful poetry!

Wow, I'm so amazed at how much it effected you! I felt all those things too, and I love that it's moving through my writing.

(By the way thanks for the heads up about the typo, I fixed it!) xx

Cat - Hmm, yes it was a bit odd that Hermione didn't outright deny sleeping with Blaise wasn't it? I think that was me very much putting myself into the story there. I've been in situations like that and usually I'm so overcome with indignation that I outright refuse to answer those sorts of questions based on the fact that I think if someone is going to demand answers like that then they don't deserve to know. So yeah lol. All me, I take full responsibility for that haha.

Hmm, I will think about your question about Narcissa. Keep a look out!

I'm glad you liked the chapter and I hope you liked this one too!

Aranel - Well, I don't think any of us are in the business of knowing what either Draco OR Harry are doing at the moment lol. I wish I knew!

Thanks for the empathy. It was hard to write. I was sitting at my computer at 4am, sobbing like a child. Literally. It drained me.

dh_reader - It was hard for me to write Hermione pushing Harry away, I'm very loyal to the Golden Trio and I hate that they're not a trio right now! It's yucky. You're questions regarding Harry's sanity and his preference for Hermione will be answered in due time hehe.

(Just for you I will write a Hermione Harem fic at some point!) xx

Marblemeadow - I'm glad you're liking the story! I hadn't thought that Eli might have carried the Bible into Azkaban, but I do like that idea. I'm not religious myself but I'm very spiritual and I love the idea of Eli finding his solace in spiritual reading.

MorningSnow - No it's not the end! Don't worry!! I hope you liked this chapter, I kind of freaked out at how many people really believed Isobel was dead. I'd planned that chapter from the beginning and suddenly I was like, should I keep her dead now?! Ah!!

I know the painting you're talking about :D It's one of my favourites and EXACTLY how I pictured that scene!

B - I really hope you've slept lol.

So, the Dividing Lines. You want to know where the inspiration came from? WELL. Prepare to be shocked. Lol. My best friend, who's name we shall not mention or she will murder me when she reads this, once told me that she likes to... make orgasms... in doorways and the like. She's always said it makes her feel as if she's on the Dividing Line between two places... And that's where the thought began to form. She's a spiritual girl, she felt a connection there, you know? Each to their own, and I thank her, it sort of inspired me to look into it. And look into it I did. This is the results of my research :D

Siona-the-Green - What a beautiful review! I hope, one day, to be a professional author. That's the dream. And writing this story has really helped me get up the confidence! One day, you'll see my name staring out at you from a bookshop window *fingers crossed!!!*

I have a couple of other fics up my sleeve that will be posted after this one! I'm really interested in doing requests and the like, so if you think of anything, let me know! xx

The quote at the beginning of this chapter is from Ani Difranco's song Parametres. Her music has served as a huge inspiration for this piece. I own nothing. Thanks Ani!
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Victim of the Fall