Pendulum

Chapter 2

Hermione hiccupped, her mind a kaleidoscope of shattered emotions. She didn't quite know what was becoming of her unusual situation; was almost incapable of grasping that this was not, in fact, a dream.

She had just finished sobbing, rather hysterically, in the arms of her mentor, Minerva McGonagall. Not that her teacher knew this, of course.

It was as of that moment that Hermione realized something rather important. She had nowhere to go - no identity - and worst of all, no family or friends.

"Are you alright dear," Minerva asked, handing her a cup of honey tea with a look of concern cast across her shadowed face. In that moment, she was so reminiscent of Molly Weasley that she had to struggle not to burst into a second bout of tears.

Hermione forced herself to nod, pallid features tiredly achnologingly what needed to be done.

"I'm so sorry Professor. May I go to Madam Pomfrey for one second? I suppose it was rather silly of me not to go yesterday." Her entire body was wracked with spasms, the same kind she had been feeling constantly for many months. It usually came in the mornings, when her body had time to adjust to the daily rounds of cruciatus.

"Of course," her professor said thoughtfully, looking mildly angry that she hadn't thought of it before. "Absolutely terrible that no one thought to mention it to me. We'll go at once."

She hesitated for a mere second, a suspicious look clouding her expression. "How did you know about Poppy?"

Hermione bit her lip uncertainly. "I've known Dumbledore for a great many years," she said vaguely. That was, in most terms, true. "He speaks of his co-workers often." Also true.

She nodded slightly, as if pacified, and Hermione gave a tiny sigh of relief. She stumbled slightly as Minerva helped her up, but managed to get into a steady pace and walk, only with slight stumbling as her body unintentionally twitched.

Halfway there, a particularly violent spasm shook her, and she fell to the floor with a thud. Professor McGonagall lunged forward but failed to catch her. Hermione winced, her wandless glamor over her bruises fading slightly as she shifted.

Minerva noticed the sickly sheen fade and be replaced with the large purple bruising that extended over her entire body. Her throat clenched up as she studied the fury in McGonagall's eyes.

"What happened to you, Miss..."

"Lovett," Hermione quickly supplied, her frantic mind quickly combining 'Lovegood' and 'Potter'. She inwardly grimaced. "And I'd rather not say professor. It's private."

"...Johnson," Minerva finished, her eyebrows creased directly over her smoldering eyes. "I do believe that is what the Headmaster told me."

Hermione's face burned. "Johnson was my mother's maiden name," she lied jerkily. "I alternate between Johnson and Lovett, however I prefer Lovett."

McGonagall nodded curtly, though it appeared completely unimpressed. A sliver of panic made itself known inside her pupils as she recalled where they were.

"Miss Lovett, you are not to move." Hermione opened her mouth to protest but years of training had her seal her mouth shut as she flinched from the esteemed glare that McGonagall seemed to have perfected.

"Yes, Ma'am," she promised. She didn't complain as the professor lifted her in the air with a swift wingardium leviosa, and gently guided her to the infirmary.

"Poppy!" McGonagall called, walking as fast as her pointed shoes would allow her. "A student has been injured." The phrase seemed to roll off of her tongue so easily that Hermione had no choice but to assume that there were students who often got hurt.