CH-30

I step into the room as I finish answering the question and shut the door.

"Let me look at your arm," I say.

The kitchen door bangs open, and Fred appears.

"Dean, I thought I told you to stay put!" he says.

The curtains in front of Mrs. Black's portrait fly open, and the familiar shrieks fill the room. I'm distracted by the completely boneless state of Dean's arm.

"I think we have some Skele-Gro in the kitchen—come on," I say, leading the way in.

I hear Fred's furious shout behind me.

"Goddamn it, woman! If you don't shut up, I will set you on fire!"

I walk into the kitchen and see that three more stretchers are occupied, and that Angelina's still in her original place. I tell Dean to sit down on the nearest unoccupied stretcher and Summon a bottle of Skele-Gro from the potions cupboard.

"That tastes awful, doesn't it?" Dean asks me. "Harry told me about it."

"I haven't tasted it myself," I reply.

I pour some of the potion into a cup and hand it to him. He sniffs it and makes a face. I look around and see Colin Creevey lying to Angelina's left and Charlie to her right. On the other side of Charlie is a middle-aged man whom I don't recognize. All four lying on the stretchers are unconscious.

"Ugh!" Dean exclaims, putting down the empty cup. "That was disgusting!"

"Sorry," I say distractedly as Fred reenters the room. I walk over to him and ask, "Who's that man?"

"Muggle," Fred says. "He got caught in the crossfire. Dean brought him back."

"With one arm?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"He was dying," Dean says. "Aw fuck, my arm hurts."

I mutter a charm to hopefully numb or lessen the pain. "Sorry, but that's all I can do."

"It's all right, Hermione," he says, wincing. "Thanks."

"What did Malfoy tell you?" Fred asks.

I resist the urge to bite my lip nervously. I'm saved from replying when we hear another knock on the front door.

"Forget it, I'll be right back," Fred says.

I step in the way. "It's all right, I'll get it," I say, exiting the room.

I move down the hall quickly and pull open the door. My wand is pointed at Blaise and a barely conscious figure slumped against him.

"Where—" I begin to ask.

"I'm not coming in," he says. "I was bringing her back."

I look more closely and find that the girl is Hannah Abbott. Her skin is tinted an unhealthy shade of green. Blaise transfers her weight onto me, and I shout for Fred to come help. Mrs. Black wakes up again, but I ignore her. Blaise starts to Disapparate, but I speak up to stop him.

"No, wait!"

Fred comes and takes Hannah from me, and I walk out onto the doorstep.

"You're bleeding," I say, using a nonverbal spell to staunch the blood pouring from a cut much too close to his carotid artery.

"I'm fine," he replies, trying to push me back inside. He sways a little on his feet.

"No, you're not," I argue.

But then he gives a hard shove, and as soon as I lose my grip on his arm, he's gone.

"Damn it!"

I walk back into the house and slam the front door behind me. Then I hurry into the kitchen, continuing to ignore Mrs. Black's screams. It'd be pointless to try to shut her up again. When I enter the kitchen, Fred has placed Hannah on a stretcher and is looking at her, bewildered. Tentacles have begun to sprout from her face, arms and chest.

He looks up at me. "How…?"

I sigh. It's going to be a very long night.

"Hermione, please go to bed."

I look up and rub my eyes. "I'm fine."

Blaise sighs. "You're going to work yourself to death."

"Yeah, Hermione. We've got everything covered down here," Harry says.

His left arm is in a sling. I'm so exhausted that I can't even remember what happened to his arm that made me put it in a sling. He notices that my eyes are fixed on his arm and shakes his head.

"Hermione, you're dead on your feet," he says.

I'm standing in the kitchen. Six more stretchers are filled, which makes the grand total of injured people who made it to Grimmauld Place eleven.

Antonin Dolohov used that vile curse of his on two more fighters after Angelina: Neville and a Ravenclaw named Jeanette, two years below me at Hogwarts. I was able to save Neville, but Jeanette wasn't so lucky. Justin Finch-Fletchley brought her to Shell Cottage. When nobody knew what to do with her, he took her here, but it was already too late to save her.

The Death Eaters retreated on Bellatrix's command when it seemed they wouldn't be able to reach the city. Jeanette was the only death in this fight, and the Death Eaters didn't inflict any irreparable damage upon the city, so Lupin deemed it a "success".

But watching all of our injured comrades, looking at the white sheet that covers Jeanette's still body, all of us feel otherwise.

A firm grip on my arm pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see that Blaise is leading me out of the kitchen.

He returned half an hour ago banged up and bleeding, but with some Blood Replenishing Potion and plenty of rest, he'll be all right.

"Blaise, I'm fine," I say.

"Yeah, you just keep saying that," he says irritably.

I hear Harry's voice, "Make sure she goes to sleep."

Before I know it, we're in my room.

"Blaise, you can go."

"You're just going to come right back downstairs if I don't stay here and watch you," he says.

I sigh. "You've got to at least let me undress to go to bed, then."

He looks as though he's going to make some funny comment, but the look on my face seems to change his mind.

"Let me know when you're done," he says, exiting the room.

I change into my nightgown and walk over to the door, pulling it open. As Blaise reenters, I cross the room and slide under the covers.

The last thing I see before I slip into oblivion is Blaise sitting down on the side of my bed.

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