Hermione gasped with relief as they reached dry ground. She fell down on the ground with a thump and a smile on her face. Matilda wasn't quite as happy, as Hermione's sudden movement meant her stretcher wobbled perilously close to the waters edge.
"Do you mind collapsing somewhere a little more comfortable, and a little less cold?" Matilda asked edgily, not sharing Hermione's evident relief. Whether this was because she knew better or because of the Pox, Hermione didn't know, but reasoned that neither outcome could be good.
"Like where exactly? That large tree over there? Or how about the patch of dried out mud?"
"Or how about civilization? Look, there's light and buildings over there, I'm sure we can find somewhere to stay," Matilda suggested wearily. Hermione could tell that the illness was getting to her, and their trek probably hadn't helped. As they made their way closer, they could hear shouts and laughter among the light from the windows that guided them.
"Stoker's Den," Hermione read out as she glanced up at the sign handing above their heads. "Do you know it?" She could tell from Matilda's expression that she did, and the outlook, once again, didn't look good.
"Yes," she said evasively. "But, well, it's not the most hospitable of places... It's actually known for housing vampires," she explained.
"Well, it's not exactly as if we have much choice - we both need rest," Hermione pointed out. Besides, I've braved murderous chess pieces, giant snakes, Death Eaters, werewolves - how bad can a few vampires be? Of course, Ron and Harry were always with me before... The sight of Matilda rolling off her stretcher, and pulling herself to a standing position interrupted Hermione (a fairly welcome interruption, if she were to be honest) from her thoughts.
"Matilda, what are you doing? I'm sure you'd be better lying down..." She drifted off as she caught the look in Matilda's eyes. It was one of fiery pride, and all at once, Hermione understood her intentions. Had the roles been reversed, she was sure that she would have done the same thing.
"I'm not going to go in there as some invalid - I'm feeling better now anyway," Matilda lied, but Hermione accepted it with a nod as she pushed the pub door opened, and the two walked inside.
Hermione could see the customers and lodgers watching her and Matilda suspiciously, some licked their lips hungrily - most of them seemed to have their eyes on Matilda. Hermione fought to hold back a shudder. She could think of a hundred other places she would rather be right then, but there was nothing she could do about it. Both she and Matilda were tired and desperate - they could either take their chance and stay there to recuperate, or lose to whatever awaited them outside.
Besides, they were bound to be connected with the Floo network, so hopefully St. Mungo's wouldn't be too far away from their future - though Hermione wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing.
A pale woman with straight black hair approached them, almost leering at Matilda.
"What will it be?"
"A room please," Hermione answered warily.
"Would you like a drink first? It's on the house. Your friend looks like she needs one."
Hermione eyed her suspiciously, she didn't trust her and there were rumours about this place... She could tell that many of them were true by the look on Matilda's face and the expressions and appearances of some of the less presentable clients there. She slowly accepted the key and paid the woman. "No thank you, I need my rest, big day tomorrow."
"You know ... your friend reeks of death ... we can help her."
Hermione felt all eyes from the room looked intently at Matilda. Again, Hermione felt another wave of pity wash over, and strengthened her resolve to be more patient. She shook your head politely, "No thank you."
The landlady led them up to their room, and showed them the bathroom and the fire exits. As soon as she left, Matilda collapsed onto the bed, and it took all the will Hermione had not to do the same.
"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, as she took a further look around their quarters for the evening. Their room was drab, to say the least. There seemed to be more holes than curtain on the remnants of grey fabric drawn over the window, and the beds looked like they had definitely seen better days. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if they'd housed werewolves as well as vampires recently too.
"Yes. What are you doing - have you lost something already?" Hermione appeared to be hunting through the drawers, under the bed and even behind the curtains (although she could already see that, nothing was hidden behind the holes).
"No - I'm looking for something to protect us! There are a load of vampires down there, you can never be too careful!" Hermione said from behind the mirror. "Aha!"
"What? What have you found?" Matilda asked eagerly, propping herself up against the bed.
"Some spare sheets!" Hermione said gleefully, holding them up for Matilda to see.
"That's...great, Hermione. But you do know we already have some on the beds - and there are a bunch of vampires waiting downstairs to eat us!" Matilda shrieked.
"I know! We can use these sheets to protect us from the vampires! I had an old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who used to wear a turban to protect him from vampires," Hermione explained, wrapping the sheet around her head, before moving over to do the same to Matilda, much to her obvious displeasure.
"Hermione, this looks stupid!" she pointed out. "What does a sheet do to protect us from vampires anyway?"
"Well... All I know is that vampires never attacked Quirrell! Although, now I come to think of it, Quirrell was actually wearing that turban to hide Voldemort..." Hermione trailed off on seeing Matilda's shocked expression, and quickly went back to her original train of thought. "But he still didn't get attacked by vampires!"
"Right," Matilda agreed scathingly. "Well, in that case, we should...wear these socks on our ear! No, seriously! My cousin wore a sock on his ear - his right ear, mind you, I'm not sure if it works as well on your left - and he never got attacked by vampires either!" As if to prove her 'point', Matilda proceeded to put a pink, fluffy sock on her right ear. "You see! I'm not getting attacked, am I?" She handed the other sock to Hermione, who looked at it in disbelief.
"You're not serious?" she asked, only to have Matilda nod gleefully back at her.
"Come on, I'm wearing the sheet," she pointed out. Hermione rolled her eyes, but remembered her resolve to be more patient with Matilda, and resignedly put the sock on her ear. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, with a scowl.
"It's a shame we don't have any pineapples," Matilda continued. Hermione began to suspect that Matilda was taking advantage of her new found sympathy, but before she could find out what pineapples would do, a loud series of knocks could be heard on the door.
"Pretend to be asleep!" Matilda hissed, her sheet slipping down over her sock as she jumped at the noise.
"No, it's best we just see what they want. I'm sure it'll be fine..." Hermione replied, trying not to show her fear at the memory of all those hungry vampires... One of which whom was standing right in front of Hermione as she opened the door. He was quite tall and gaunt, with almost grey eyes matching his pale complexion.
"Hello," he said with a smile, a red speck on his white teeth making a huge contrast with the rest of his colourless appearance. "I am Vlad, it is very nice to be meeting you," he said, three glasses in one hand, and a bottle in another. Hermione nearly paled to the same extent as the vampire's natural colour.
"Vlad? As in - Vlad the Impaler? As in, the real Prince Dracula?" she asked in a whisper. "Dad always told me not to read those books, that they'd come back to haunt me one day..."
"No, no - I am Flad, as in vloor, vhich ve stand on," Flad said, making an effort with the pronunciation, though his accent making the letter 'f' sound the same as a 'v'.
"Oh, I see," Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "You know, you have a little something there," she gestured to his teeth.
"Ah, yes... It must be vrom my drink," he said, looking down at the bottle and glasses in his hands. "Which I came to share vith you - your vriend looks like she could use some - she does not look so vell," he noted, looking over at Matilda with a small smile.
"No, we're okay, thank you," Hermione said, standing firmly in the doorway so he couldn't enter any further.
"Are you sure? Vor, I veel that your vriend vould greatly benefit vrom some blo - vine!" Flad suggested, moving to set the drinks down on the small table, but Hermione blocked his way.
"No - really, I think we're okay, but we do need some sleep, so if you don't mind..." But it looked as though Flad did mind. "Er - what if the sun comes up? You know, it looks like it's beginning to rise." Hermione looked over towards the holes (or curtains as they used to be).
"I do not think it is time yet," Flad said, although Hermione could sense the discomfort in his voice. Using that, she walked over to what was left of the curtains, and lifted them slightly so she could get a better look.
"Well, the sky is turning a pale orange colour, is that the sun there? I suppose a better question is, can you afford to risk it?" she turned back to face Flad with a smile, her eyebrows raised.
"Vell," he seemed to be considering the matter, taking a few tentative looks at the holes. "I think so. After all, I am not dead."
"Yet," Matilda said softly.
"Vhat?" he asked sharply, causing both the girls to jump, Hermione scowled at Matilda, thinking fast.
"Met! Matilda said, have you met - um - my, sock!" Hermione blurted out, ignoring Matilda's snorts as she pulled the sock off her ear. "This is my sock puppet - Mr. Sock - y," she added. "Mr. Socky." Flad looked considerably confused, but Matilda seemed to be rather enjoying how the scenario was turning out.
"Your - sock puppet? Vhich you keep on your ear?" he asked slowly, not sure if his ears were working properly.
"Yes. My enchanted sock-puppet, Mr. Socky. Say hello, Mr. Socky," Hermione said through gritted teeth, waving her wand at the sock, which sprung to life. There goes my last bit of magic 'til I get some sleep - on a sock puppet. What is the world coming to? This might be worse than Voldemort...
"I see... I think I need to leave now. Please be getting better soon," Flad said, looking rather disturbed as he backed out of the room. Hermione wasn't sure if that last comment was aimed at her or Matilda.
Hermione yawned as the sunlight streamed in through the holes in what used to be the curtains. Her first thought was to make sure they hadn't been attacked by vampires, but it seemed that 'Mr. Socky' had seen them off for good, as he stood guard by the door. She looked over to Matilda, who was still asleep, and debated briefly about whether to wake her or not. Eventually, she decided on not and just made enough noise rummaging about the room so that she would wake 'unintentionally'.
"Mr. Socky?" Matilda mumbled, her eyelids flickering. "Just five more minutes..."
"Matilda! Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Hermione asked as she pulled back the bare bits of fabric that were left on the 'curtains'. Matilda groaned, pulling the duvet over her head to block out the light. "Matilda? Oh dear Merlin - did the vampires get you?" Hermione shrieked, immediately realising what she'd done - exposed her friend to light.
"What?" Matilda groaned, peeking over the covers. "Oh - no!" she giggled, realising Hermione's assumptions. "The vampires didn't get me - I think Mr. Socky saw to that! I'm just not much of a morning person."
Hermione found that to be true as she hurried her to get ready, but eventually they made it downstairs to the main area of the pub - and the fireplace. Hermione also found that the rest of the clientele seemed to be giving them a rather wide berth, but she found their suspicious - and slightly scared - glances fell on her more than Matilda. She decided not to dwell on that as they made their way over to the fireplace.
"Okay, so you think you'll be okay at St. Mungo's? Hermione asked, with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "You will remember to owl me, right?" Matilda gave her a very curious look, as if Hermione was speaking in code.
"Hermione? What are you talking about - aren't you coming with me?" Matilda had the same look on her face as when she admitted that the Dragon Pox was getting to her, that she wasn't strong anymore. A look that showed she was vulnerable and afraid. A look that made Hermione feel as mean as if she were ripping up an orphan's teddy bear.
"Well - I mean, you can manage, right? And I have a lot of work to do..." Hermione trailed off, wondering if her excuses sounded as weak out loud as they did in her head. As if to prove her point, Matilda snorted.
"Oh right, so much work to do that you can just take off for a day and night, without any owls flocking round you, telling you that everything's falling apart because you're taking another few hours off to make sure a friend doesn't die," Matilda stated sardonically. Hermione scowled, knowing that her excuses sounded as weak out loud as they did in her head. "What are you so afraid of?"
That startled Hermione. She looked at Matilda quizzically, like the way Matilda had looked at her when she had hinted that she wasn't coming.
"Excuse me?"
"What scares you so much that you just hear the words 'St. Mungo's' or even 'England' I noticed earlier, and make you want to back away with a ten foot barge pole? I mean, you can face the Lock Ness Monster, no problem, but you can't set foot in a fireplace?"
"I'm not scared - I mean, it's complicated - wait, Lock Ness Monster? When did I face the Lock Ness Monster?" Hermione asked accusingly, although she was quite happy to have been able to turn the conversation around.
"It doesn't matter... I mean, a sea-serpent's a sea serpent, it doesn't matter about fancy names... But anyway, what are you so afraid of that you don't want to come to St. Mungo's?"
"Nothing," Hermione said briskly, after a short pause. "I'm coming to St. Mungo's." And with that, she took a handful of Floo powder and walked into the fire.
She walked out of the fireplace and onto a mat prepared, where she hastily brushed her shoes before walking further into the reception room. She looked at the wizards and witches sitting in the old wooden chairs - there seemed to be more than normal. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if the Dragon Pox weren't just a problem in Romania. She looked at the people sitting patiently, wondering how they stood it, there were even a few faces that she recognised, but she wasn't in the mood to say 'how do you do' - especially in a hospital, where the answer was never usually good. She even thought she saw a flash of red hair up ahead, but she turned round quickly, and saw Matilda emerging from the fireplace.
They quickly joined the queue for the Enquires desk, where the plump blonde witch Hermione had become familiar with seeing in the recent years seemed to have been replaced with a bored, brown haired wizard, who looked particularly cramped behind the desk that was too small for his large body.
"Artefact Accidents, straight on and to your left," he recited to a man with half his ear hanging off. "Next!"
"Hello, we're here because my friend has - "
"Dragon Pox?" the wizard asked, looking all of sudden much more alert, and even somewhat sympathetic. "Yes, there's been an epidemic of it recently. Magical Bugs, second floor." Hermione thanked him with a smile, but internally, she pondered on his words. He was obviously familiar with the signs of the Pox - unsurprisingly as he'd said there was an outbreak of it. But what was surprising was his sympathy. He'd looked extremely fed up before, and he must see terrible things everyday, why would he be nice and understanding about Dragon Pox? Unless he knew something they didn't...
"Can I help you?" a young, blonde Healer asked.
"Yes, this is my friend Matilda, and she's got the new form of Dragon Pox," Hermione said, somewhat in a rush, willing this to be over so she could leave.
"Oh," said the Healer, the same look as the wizard at the Enquiries had coming over her face. "Well, come this way then." She led them into the Glen Systenist ward, and gestured for them to sit down on two wooden chairs. "As I'm sure you've heard, this Dragon Pox is getting out of hand. It wouldn't be so bad if we knew exactly what it was - but to be honest, we don't. We're working on cures all the time, many of which work more effectively for the original Dragon Pox, but as of yet, we haven't found one that works for this. At the moment, it seems to be just a mutated form of the original Dragon Pox, and so shares many of the symptoms and effects - only they are a bit more severe. Basically, your reactions will slow down, you might get some nasty scarring, you'll feel more tired, some of your limbs won't work as effectively, your eyesight won't be as sharp..." the Healer trailed off, seeing the looks on both Hermione and Matilda's face.
"Am I - am I going to die?" she whispered. Hermione held back a sob just hearing those words - she knew now why the Enquiries wizard had looked and acted like he had. The Healer still bore the same kind of expression.
"Well, we are working on new cures all the time," she tried to say reassuringly. "But so far we haven't had much progress... But we found a cure for the original form of Dragon Pox, I'm sure we'll find one for this. Would you like to stay here? I'm sure we can find you a bed." Matilda shook her head, tears now falling fast down her face. "Very well, then. We'll keep you updated by owl if there are any breakthroughs. Miss, do you mind coming over here with me and filling out some forms?" The Healer asked Hermione. Hermione just nodded mutely, following her over to a corner.
"How long?" Hermione asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.
"Well, from what I've seen so far, I'd say your friend has about another two weeks until it starts getting critical. I'd suggest she enjoy herself as much as possible now, then bring her back in two weeks, or if her condition worsens considerably. We can give her a bed and round the clock assistance, but other than that..." The Healer drifted off, knowing that sometimes things were better unsaid. Hermione nodded, feeling the tears prickling in her eyes, and signed a few forms quickly before returning to Matilda.
"Come on, I'll take you home," she said, helping her up. "I'm sure everything will be fine, I mean, they are working all the time, and they're all very smart -"
"Please. I'm sure they're smart, but so am I. I know the outcome, don't patronise me. I - I'm sure that -" Matilda's icy edge seemed to deteriorate, as she broke down into tears.
"Ah, what's wrong fair maiden?" a medieval wizard called out from a portrait they had just passed, making the girls turn back. Hermione immediately recognised him as the same portrait that had informed Ron he had spattergroit, and if the situation had been different, she might have managed a laugh.
"Dragon Pox - there's nothing they can do," Matilda replied, her voice rising.
"Never say never - and never fear!" he said, in what Hermione assumed was meant to be comforting. "You would be seeking Hippocrates!"
"Who's Hippocrates?" Matilda asked, although Hermione recognised the name.
"Where can we find his portrait?" Hermione asked, knowing how short of time they were, not wanting to waste even a second for explanations.
"I sing of a tale worthy of myth and legend,
Few who doubted were later enlightened.
I tell the story of how St. Mungo came to be,
An apparition that Bonham had come to see.
Grecian wizard of the past was this great man,
Through him Mungo Bonham's vision hath began.
When the hospital was built, Hippocrates' ghost was at peace.
Bondage upon his soul, this world hath finally release.
A portrait of this ghost is all we have now,
One summer night is all that nature would allow.
A night he'll come to share his boundless knowledge,
The only time when this ghostly portrait gain earthly passage.
Alas, we know the time but ne'er the place ...
Place whence the Healer's presence be grace.
Many-a-claim from those who saw and were helped,
Many-a-patients his healing presence hath been felt," the medieval wizard spouted, looking rather pleased with himself. Hermione looked at Matilda, and saw that although her tears were still falling, they were not as fast or hard as before, and she had even managed a smile. Hermione felt the flicker of hope that this news had revived, and was determined to build on it.
"It may be a long shot, but we have to try!" she said, turning to her friend with a smile. "Hippocrates was one of the greatest Healers in history - he practically invented medicine! But lots of his potions and techniques were lost - if anyone can help, he can." Hermione explained, answering Matilda's earlier question. "When history is forgotten, it repeats itself - going back to the routes might just be the answer! Besides, how hard can it be? St. Mungo's isn't that big..."
Escaping Fate - Alongside Certain Death And Other Such Predicaments by Oppungo
Chapter Notes: Many thanks to whittyleah for betaing for me!