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Story Notes:
Title: Cursed

Author: pearle9240
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: Hermione seeks an elusive cure for the lasting effects of a curse Bellatrix Lestrange managed to hit her with during the Battle of Hogwarts. Her life has been lost to endless bouts of pain and despair that have plagued her these last two years. But her luck may finally be changing. A reference to a Dark potion in an obscure book may hold the key to her cure. But where will she find a Potions master knowledgeable enough to brew it?
Prompt: AU, EWE: Hurt/comfort. Years after the final battle, Hermione struggles daily with the after effects of Bellatrix Lestrange's special brand of Crucio. St. Mungo's advises treating the symptoms, but Hermione wants to live her life. She goes to the oldest center of Wizarding population, Alexandria, Egypt, chasing a rumour: a Potions master with a dual expertise in Legilimency. For some reason, he doesn't want to help her. Without knowing his true identity, Hermione must persuade him she is worth his time. Romance, happy ending please. (Bonuses include: archaeology, magical artifacts, history, dusty libraries, moments of crazy stupid in love).
Disclaimer: Not mine. All characters and settings belong to JKR, et al. I promise to return them when I finish playing with them.
Note: Author notes and thanks to my wonderful and talented beta held until the reveal.


Cursed

Chapter 1 - The Beginning

Her teeth clenched, muscles tightening, eyes flashing with an unholy light, she braced herself for the wave of pain she could feel starting. It took more and more pain potion to get her through the days now, her body building up a tolerance to the magical substance. Hermione closed her eyes and drew a ragged breath as the ripple of the pain passed.

A small moan escaped as the witch rolled onto her side, unable to stop herself from trembling as wave after wave of pain washed over her again. While she waited for the pain to recede, the voice started up again.

"Come on, Mudblood, if you won't end Potter's life, the least you can do is end your own."

Hermione watched horrified as she reached for her own wand. The hand at the end of her arm no longer seemed to belong to her.

"That's it, girl. A quick Avada Kedavra and you can finish us off. One less Mudblood in the world."

"No, no," she cried. Her hand shook violently as she tried to control it; anyone watching the display would have thought she was wrestling with an invisible foe.

"NO!" Her scream echoed hoarsely off the walls of her room. Weakly, she flopped back onto the bed, her strength leaving as the worst of the pain drained from her body. Unconsciousness was a welcome escape from the hell her life had become these last two years. Even entranced, her right hand held her left arm in a deathly grip; her wand inches from her outstretched fingers.

The door to her hospital room flew open, Harry reaching the bed a second before a Healer appeared in the doorway.

"Hermione, are you okay? Did it start again? Hermione?" 

"Mr Potter, don't touch her! You might further injure Miss Granger. Please step back and let me check her."

Reluctantly, he stepped back and let the Healer tend to his sick friend. The lime green robes contrasted sharply with his friend's pale skin as the Healer scanned the unconscious witch with his wand. Harry turned as Ron came into the room; the two sharing a worried glance before he turned his attentions back toward the bed.

"It happened again?"

Harry winced as the Healer moved Hermione; her limbs flopping like a rag doll. "She's getting worse."

"We have tried every cure known to magic, Mr Potter. This is not a typical response to the Cruciatus Curse. The pain should have subsided within a week, two at the most after it had been cast, not continue unabated two years later." The Healer shook his head; he had never seen anything like it in all his years. The pain continued to ravish the young witch's body at regular intervals - two full years after the original curse had been cast. She'd been sinking into a greater depression with each failed attempt at treatment. There were potions to treat her pain, her depression, the weakness of her muscles, but this was all superficial. They had yet to find a cure that would end the nightmare for the young woman. Gently, he tugged a blanket over the witch. "She seems to be resting comfortably now. I don't believe this last round of potions effected any change."

"What does that mean?" Ron watched as Hermione's limbs twitched; he hated watching an episode, as she'd termed them.

"It means they can't help her, mate."

Ron glared at Harry before turning on the Healer. "You have to help her. This is St Mungo's, there's nowhere else to go!"

"Mr Weasley, over the last two years we have contacted Healers from around the globe. No one has been able to come up with a cure. We have tried every combination of potions and spells known to magic. Lestrange had to have cast a second curse when she cast the Cruciatus Curse on Miss Granger. It's the only reasonable explanation."

Wearily, Harry shook his head. "You've seen the Pensieve; there was nothing else." 

Hermione stirred, holding her head as a dull ache replaced the pain of the curse. "Harry?"

"I'm here, Hermione. How do you feel?"

"It didn't work, did it?" She could still feel the odd redoubling in her mind, the uneasy sensation that someone else was there. Most of the time she was able to ignore the feeling by sheer will alone, but lately, it had become harder and harder to push it back down and get on with her life. What had started out as a tingling in the back of her mind when she had awakened in St Mungo's after the final battle had developed into, well, another presence, a separate consciousness, a voice only she could hear. Knowing what they would think of her if she'd told them she was hearing voices, she kept the knowledge to herself. But as the pain of the curse passed, her mind would clear only to be submerged again when the next round of pain hit. She found she could limit the pain if she concentrated hard enough, but she was never able to control the voice, only quiet it for a while.

The voice. She was sure she was going mad. She'd thought they would put her in the ward with the Longbottoms, sure that Bellatrix must have cursed her into insanity. It was hard to explain, but she didn't think her mind was manufacturing the voice. It seemed to come from outside herself. It would taunt her, call her Mudblood, shriek obscenities whenever possible. It was obsessed with Harry. So far she'd been able to resist it, but she was growing weary of the battle; she worried what she would do when she could no longer fight it. 

She'd been coming to St Mungo's regularly for the last two years, subjecting herself to every known spell and potion they could come up with in the hope of ending the pain she'd been forced to live with. Their suggestion that she dope her self up with pain potions offered her little release when it took more and more potion to stop the pain and allowed her less and less control of her own life.

And it did nothing to quiet the voice in her head.

At one point she decided the problem might not be caused by magic alone. She'd read an article that stated, "...seventy percent of those diagnosed with schizophrenia heard voices in their head." Perhaps she was suffering from schizophrenia and not some magically induced problem. She saw a Muggle physiatrist who prescribed medication to help her cope, but the medication did nothing to quiet the voice. 

Hermione did what she did best; she threw herself into researching the curse. She was grateful she didn't have to work; it would be doubtful she could've held a job. Her parents had died in an accident shortly after her sixth year. The order was never able to prove it had been a result of Death Eaters, but Hermione was convinced Voldemort was responsible for their deaths. Between selling their practice and the double indemnity clause in their life insurance, Hermione would never want for anything again. She found a certain empathy with Harry, the two vowing to be each other's family since they were both orphans.

In between treatments at St Mungo's, Hermione researched the curse. She Portkeyed to Greece when a footnote in a book in the Restricted Section mentioned a rare flower that once grew along side the Temple of Aphrodite on the island of Rhodes. She found many rare and beautiful flowers there, but not the flower she was looking for.

The voice cackled madly, "You think a flower can get rid of me? Silly girl!" and the pain would start again.



She traveled to Cape Town in Southern Africa, chasing down an inyanga who was rumored to know a cure for the "Devil's Curse." The inuyanga proved to be nothing more than a traditional South African healer dealing in rare herbs and potions made from plants and animals. The inuyanga tried, but in the end, no matter what he gave her, nothing helped.

The voice taunted the healer as he plied his trade, but only Hermione heard. "Filthy Mudblood, the Dark Lord will rise again, and then where will your herbs and talsmans get you?"



A book on Dark Magic suggested ingesting a combination of the alloy osmiridium with a type of hard leaves usually found in dry sclerophyll forests to strengthen the power of the curse. She hoped to use this combination to find a way to create the opposite effect, to reduce the power of the curse's after effects. Further research mentioned the abandoned osmiridium mining settlement of Adamsfield located on the island state of Tasmania as being surrounded by dry sclerophyll forsts. Such forests were known to attract the Tasmanian Devil, a rare animal indigidious to the island alone. After traveling to Australia, and then Portkeying to Adamsfield, Hermione found a small hidden magical community on the site of the ‘abandoned' settlement. The community had been enchanted to repel Muggles, much like the enchantment that surrounded Hogwarts. And while osmiridium, though rare, could be could be found in the ground there, she was disappointed to learn it held no magical properties.

"Does the itty bitty wittle girl want to play with the cuddly little doggie?And die in the process? Hahaaaa!"

The pain was almost a welcome relief when the voice tried to call one of the Devils to her in the hopes she would be his next meal. 



Over the last two years her research had led her to countless locations. She followed countless leads to their inevitable dead end, hoping against hope that the next item, the next ingredient, the next potion would be the cure she hoped for.

She had come to the conclusion that Dark magic had to be responsible for what was happening to her. She had traveled across the continents visiting magical and Muggle libraries alike, looking for the answer. As Harry Potter's best friend, and a hero of the war, she was granted access to dusty stacks of forgotten tomes, some not seeing the light of day for centuries.

She was disappointed this last attempt by the Healers had failed, but she had found an obscure reference to dealing with the curse that referred to a rare book on Dark magic. Conjuring the Darke was rumored to be housed in the ancient section of The Royal Library of Alexandria, located below the modern day library. 

Anticipating just this outcome, she had a Portkey scheduled for the morning to take her to Egypt.


A/N: Yes, I know there is a glaring lack of Severus in this chapter. I am well aware this is the SSHG Exchange; the insufferable man has pointed that out to me himself, but the facts, being what they are, need to be presented before we can proceed. I promise he will firgure prominently in the remaining chapters. This should alay your concerns as well as his.    

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