The Sick and the Savior
A/N: I don't own the Harry Potter world or of any of JK Rowling's imagination. Brilliant woman, she is.
Chapter 1: Late Again?
Hermione Granger was late for class.
Very late.
So much so that she questioned the very brain that evidently forgot the passing of time as she read her favorite and most exciting textbook, "Most Potent Potions." Ironically enough, it was the same subject that she was required to be prompt and ready before the "bat of the dungeons" came swooping into the classroom.
Now she knew that time has already come and passed. Preciously 40 minutes ago. One would think after seven years, Hermione would charm her muggle watch to boot her rear down to class if she was late, but then again, she was never late before.
"Why should I even bother going?" sighed a little voice tickling at the back of her mind as she raced down the spiral staircase towards the darkest and dreariest of passageways. "Well at least the dungeons are always reliable," Hermione mused as she tried to wrap her robe around her thin frame to keep out the damp coldness all the while trying to balance the pile of books threatening to topple her down the stairwell.
Coldness, she thought. This is how she felt lately. That, and the fact that she hasn't been able to get over a cold she has nurtured for the past few weeks now. Not that she hasn't tried to see Madame Pomfrey, who was exceptionally busy lately due to Quidditch season and spending extra shifts at St. Mungo's, but because Hermione Granger always kept a supply of Muggle remedies. Possibly so that she wouldn't have to drink disgusting potions and pills are much easier to carry around.
Nearing the bottom of the stairs, Hermione felt herself become short of breath and light headed. "Steady on girl, steady on," she spoke as she leaned herself against the chilled wall trying desperately to hold onto her books.
"Something isn't right," Hermione's mind screamed. She knows that she should have had more to eat this week, she justified, but with NEWTS only a few weeks away and having her plaguing, persistent cold, she found little motivation to stuff her face like Ron before a Quidditch match.
Taking a few deep breaths, Hermione slowly started her descent again with some swaying success, all the while pushing her sense of nausea down and focusing all her energy in at least being able to make it to the classroom before the end of the period.