She had to know that her heart was still beating. She held herself as still as possible and waited for the shaking to stop. Thud. Thud. Thud. There it was. Thank Merlin, she was still alive.
She had awoken in bed and felt as if her blood had stopped pumping. Her fingers shifted uncontrollably and she was coated in a thin, salty sheen. Her chest rose and fell out of sync with her need for oxygen. Hermione felt like she was dying. There was pain in her chest and a thin, papery feeling came over her as she was perpetually spiralling on the edge of consciousness. Her covers were sheets of molten metal, scalding her and pinning her down under their enormous weight. She could barely breathe. She was barely living. She had to get out of here.
Hermione raised her hand to her head and squeezed her temples, hoping to steady her brain enough to get out of bed. She pushed her covers back and was immediately thankful for the rush of cold air that kissed her. She stirred her legs and dropped them onto the floor. Her head began to swim with colours and she felt immediately ill. But the cool floor beneath her feet encouraged her. She knew that it would feel magnificent against her sweltering body. Slowly she dripped and rolled out of bed, her limbs landing deftly against the cold floor. A quiet groan crept from her lips while the floor cherished her. The enormous heat she had produced poured from her and evaporated on the hard wood. If she could have, she would have stayed here forever. But her blood still spluttered through her system and she could sense the moonlight would save her.
Weakly, slowly, she pawed her way across the wood toward the balcony door. Her clammy palms stuck to the slick surface and her knees hit the floor like the chimes of the hour. Cool beads of sweat grazed across her forehead. Just for a moment, only a moment, she allowed herself to still. Pressing as much of her body into the cold floor as possible, willing herself to stay conscious. She shifted and turned onto her back, hoping the shift in weight would shock her heart into normality. Her chest rose and fell alarmingly, she seemed unable to draw enough oxygen into her body. Around her billions of stars swam like galaxies spinning off into the night. If she lay there long enough she was sure that the stars would spin closer and closer to her, until she was sucked into their orbit. Never to return.
She brushed the sticky golden hair from her forehead and returned to her stalk. She pushed off against the floor with the bare pads of her feet. She was certain a trail of her brackish essence was left in her wake, as if she were leaving a trail like a snake. Slithering, slowly, carefully. At last she reached the door. As her fingers touched the vertical plane a smile, a weak smile, graced her lips. On shaky knees she pushed herself upright, allowing the weight of herself to rest fully against the door. She sighed with effort and willed the oak slab to open for her. In a most unskilful way Hermione's fingers prodded at the latch. Clumsily the trembling digits worked the mechanism and she went tumbling through the arch.
All in an instant her heart released its hold of blood and her system was flushed with heat and life. The desperate rhythm that her lungs had set at last was of use, as cool night air rushed into her. The feeling was indescribable and it brought tears to her eyes. Nothing before in her life could compare, or even stand up to this. She flexed and curled her toes and allowed the air of the night to wrap itself around her. She was a part of the stars now, she was floating amongst them. The deep, dark black of the night was endless, and it encompassed all things. She saw how the moonlight kissed her fingers and turned them a pale blue. She saw how it kissed the surface of the lake, and how the lake had kissed it back. She allowed the door to swing closed on its hinges as she rose into the night. Slowly and steadily she straightened her back, where her clothes stuck to her with effort, and her hands fell on stone walls while she looked over the Hogwarts grounds. She had risen from sleep and felt as if she were dying, but only now had she risen from the oaken ground and felt as if she were weightless.
She let her body lean against the barricade, for fear she might topple into the clouds. She let the breeze gently tug at her hair and deeply inhaled the scent. It was as if she were suffocating in her own bed. Inside, within those walls, and under those sheets she might have perished. Out here, though, amongst the stars and air she was living.
She was free. This was it. Life.
At last.