The Thing About Family Outtakes

Hermione

What had just happened?

It wasn’t as if Hermione didn’t know what she saw. She could have written out each action committed, each word uttered. What she couldn’t do was interpret the colossal meaning of what happened.

Item one: Crookshanks, Big Tony, and Fawkes were bloodthirsty creatures who could be trusted as long as a person was not a hidden follower of You Know Who. She hoped.

Item two: Sirius Black was not a killer. He had not killed thirteen Muggles and a wizard as the Prophet had reported when it happened. The newspaper articles she had read were wrong. This fact in itself shook Hermione's world view. If things put in writing could not be trusted, what could?

Item three: Peter Pettigrew had been living as a rat in the Weasley household for twelve years.

The last item was one that particularly unnerved her. Percy and Ron had let that rat sleep with them. They’d been sleeping with a fully grown wizard for the last twelve years.

She shuddered.

“What’re you thinking, Hermione?” Harry asked, breaking the silence they’d all held since leaving the office.

“The rat…”

Ron uttered in a tight voice, “Don’t say it. I can’t bear thinking about it.”

He still clutched the bucket that Snape had conjured for him, was indeed still occasionally dry heaving, an action he took just then to the group’s profound disgust.

“I wasn’t going to talk about how it…he died.” Hermione protested.

“Just stop talking about it full-stop, Granger.” Malfoy said in his normal sneering drawl as Big Tony sniffed around his feet. “Dumbledore told us to keep this quiet.”

“He didn’t say we couldn’t talk about what just happened to each other.” Hermione snipped back. “He just said to keep it confidential.”

“And I suppose you think a crowded hallway in the middle of a school is the perfect place to talk about secrets.” Malfoy hissed back. “It’s no wonder you’re in Gryffindor. You obviously can’t keep a secret to save your life, or the life of someone else.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hermione stopped walking as she stamped her foot. “Is Gryffindor somehow less than your elite Pureblood cult of Slytherin?”

Harry, who had covered some distance as the two argued, shouted, “Shut it, both of you!”

Ron gave another heave. “Gods! This is making my head hurt!”

He heaved again several more times. Harry walked back to his friend, “Mate, I think you may need to go to the hospital wing. All this vomiting can’t be good for you.”

“‘M fine. (heave) Just need to quit (heave) thinking (heave) for a mo-(heave)-ment.”

“No, you’re not fine, Weasley.” Malfoy said, concern making him draw closer. “And somehow I doubt thinking is your problem.”

Hermione said, “I think you do need something to calm your stomach. It’s like the time you vomited all those slugs after your spell failed.”

Draco snickered, “I’d forgot about that. You do have a weak stomach, Weasley. It’s a wonder you make it through potions class.”

“Do not!” Ron’s voice echoed out of the bucket as he spoke. “It’s just that way when there’s something disgusting happening.”

“Or when you remember it.” Draco muttered but quit smirking as soon as Harry shot him an annoyed look.

“Come on.” Harry said, putting his arm around his friend's shoulders. “Madam Pomfrey will know what to do.”

Ron allowed Harry to guide him away, leaving Hermione and Draco to follow.

They came to the infirmary doors and entered. Angry voices sounded from behind a screen pulled around a bed. Harry pushed Ron onto a bed and said, “Wait here.”

He stalked off, calling, “Madam Pomfrey? Ron needs some help, please.”

She poked her head from around the curtain, looking harried and angry. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Another few words, half-whispered, and still heated were exchanged behind the screen and then she came bustling out. “Some people never grow up. I swear to Merlin!”

Hermione started laughing softly, her nerves jangling as she realised who must be behind the curtain. Madam Pomfrey scurried towards them, her usually pristine apron splotted in something acid green. “Don’t tell me one of your brothers gave you something to eat, and you ate it like a fool.”

“No.” Ron answered. “I just saw…something disgusting.”

He heaved into the bucket again.

She frowned and said, “Accio Stomach Calming Draught.”

It flew to her hand and she held it out to Ron. “This should do it, Mr Weasley. Now, I must ask you four to leave. I have a patient who is just as foolish who needs my help more.”

“I heard that!” Sirius shouted from behind the curtain. Someone, presumably Professor Lupin, shushed him.

“Out! All of you!” She said and rushed back to her patient. “And, Mr Malfoy, that dog had better not make another appearance in my infirmary.”

Item four: Sirius Black was still in the school.

Hermione didn’t know how to feel about that.