Not Yet (A Hermione Granger fanfic)

Chapter 3

A/N: Don't be mad at me: this chapter skips ahead. All will be clear in time, dear readers. :)

And now here we go...

*************Chapter THREE, Part 1*************

(Six months later... Christmas, 2003)

Hermione slides between the dark shelves, holding her lit wand aloft so she can read the spines of the books. The hood of her black cloak threatens to slide off her head, and she tugs it back up, all the way over her forehead.

Charmed ladders hover in each section of this Italian library. She pulls one to her and begins to climb it. The books whisper and mutter. Some of them are older than the library itself, which is saying something. Wooden shelves creak beneath the weight of the books. No doubt they are held up by magic, as well.

She climbs and climbs, pausing at each shelf to get a look at its spines before continuing. She's at giant's eye level before she sees it: Dark Arts for Healing.

Crammed in between two bigger books, the spell book resists her efforts to pull it from its place. Hermione summons it with her wand instead. It's surprisingly heavy, but other than that, there's nothing remarkable about the book itself. Black leather cover, gold lettering. The pages are old and made of parchment instead of paper. Unlike the other books around it, it's free from dust. Someone else must have just handled it.

Hermione opens it while still on the ladder, flipping through its pages, scanning spells and potions that make her stomach lurch. She blanches at the page containing a very life-like woodcut of a naked man hanging by his wrists above a cauldron. Judging by the way his face is twisted in agony, he doesn't look like he's the one being healed. Hermione pauses just long enough to see the word "Muggle" hand-printed below the woodcut. Definitely not the one being healed, then.

Still, the book is invaluable. She's already exhausted books of traditional Healing practices. What if she ever needs to use an untraditional one? Although she would certainly stop short of sacrificing a Muggle. Dark wizards wouldn't, though . . .

Hermione looks below her and down the aisle, checking that she is truly alone. Then she taps the book to reveal if it's hexed against thievery. It is, of course. She spends the next few minutes muttering various incantations over it and tapping it with her wand. Eventually, silvery smoke rises from the pages and lingers in the air above her. She vanishes it.

Breaking these kinds of hexes has become her specialty. Not that she would admit that to just anyone. She checks again that no one's watching, then slides the book under her cloak and into her old charmed, beaded purse.

A small, regretful kind of thrill passes through her as she leaves the wizarding library. One more book for her collection. Outside, she blinks in the sunlight. The Colosseum commands the view in front of her. Bells ring out from a church somewhere. If only she had time to visit. But no, another library awaits. Before leaving the protection of the library's door, she casts a Disillusionment Charm over herself.

Her stomach rumbles. How long has it been since she's eaten? The book in her purse excites her. She'll need to gather some ingredients if she's going to try some of those potions. And find an open area in which to practice the spells. She passes several food stands, forgetting about the pain in her stomach.

She can eat later.

************End Part 1************

I realize how short this one is. Don't worry, I'm working hard on getting the next part up for you. :)

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