Stronger for You

Chp. 33 Time to Act

Author's Note: FUN FACT: If you look at chapter 32 of "Faith is Stronger", it is titled "Gone", and when you look at chapter 32 of this story, it states to Hold On. I am just a teensy bit proud of myself for accidentally, subconsciously doing that. Pretty proud. Tell me your thoughts on that below if you would be so kind and emotional. And I hope you all enjoy this! Comment on it as well! I like comments ^-^

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Chapter Thirty-Three

“Remember me and smile, for it’s better to forget than to remember me and cry.” – Dr. Seuss

I jolt away at the tight feeling of apparation. What the—? I extend my awareness to my aching limbs, the muscles quivering with exertion as I pull myself to my feet wondering what’s happened. I narrow my eyes in the dim lighting, finding walls of fabric surrounding me. And…am I standing on a pile of books? Oh! The bag! Wait, had I beaten myself unconscious?

“Dobby! Hermione, help!” I hear Harry’s shout. I grit my teeth, wincing as my incisors dig into my lower lip, and push my paws against the side of the bag once more. My mind is perforated by grey fog that threatens my consciousness. When I become aware again, I know time has passed.

“’ermione, pleeze lie down. You need to rest.” Fleur’s voice filters in, causing my ears to flick up from my heap on the book-floor. I dig out with my back legs already half-off the book-floor and thump the side of the bag as furiously as I can.

“Wait! In my sock, there’s my bag.” Hermione’s voice is weary and very weak, practically a whisper. A few jostled movements and suddenly more light, like a warm glow compared to the dimness before, and fresh air pervades into this fast cell.

“What ze…?” I feel soft fingers closing around my middle and back end, lifting me up and out of the prison. I meow a soft protest.

“Oh my Godric, Jacky!” I hear Ron exhale sharply in shock. Another set of hands take me and settle me onto a wonderfully soft cushion.

“What happened to her? Was she beaten as well?” Bill’s voice breaks in carefully.

“No, I hide her in my bag. She couldn’t be caught with us since she’s supposed to be dead.” Hermione explains tiredly. A wooden tip of a wand taps my back gently and I blink and look around, now back to being human. There is Hermione next to me on the bed. Fleur was caring to her arm and a few other cuts. I wince as I see the wound, gritting my teeth to push my fury back. I reach out and curl my fingers around the palm of her good hand.

“I could have stopped the snatchers.” I tell her. She shudders.

“I wasn’t thinking. I was panicking.” She whispers, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. I nod regretfully.

“I tried to get out, to help you. Your enchantments were so strong; I couldn’t do anything without destroying the bag. I tried.” I apologize. A hand closed down on my shoulder. It was Ron, looking a bit worse for wear. I grip his hand with my free one.

“There was nothing you could have done. We were meant to go there, though I wish it had been me.” His eyes, haunted, trail to Hermione and she smiles weakly at him.

“Eet won’t get infected, but I cannot ‘eal eet. I am sorry.” Fleur murmurs as bandages snake over the treated wound with a wave of her wand. Hermione thanks her and Fleur comes over to me while Ron takes her place.

“Let’s treat these bruises, shall we?” I look down and take note of the tears in my clothes where bruises and abrasions could be seen peeking out. Self-inflicted bruising was far easier to heal than ones given by others. These would be healed, unlike the ones caused by Fred. My nails were torn; some even missing and my hands were swollen. There was a distinct throb that I knew to be a broken finger or two.