The clock chimed midnight. Harry and Hermione ran as fast as they could back to the Hospital Wing. Their hearts pounding; foreheads perspiring. Dumbledore would have locked the doors to the Hospital Wing by now. And then what were they to do? They couldn't stand outside the Hospital Wing, it would look suspicious. They couldn't knock on the doors, Madam Pomfrey would ask questions. And they couldn't tell her they'd just helped a convicted murderer escape on Buckbeak.
Up ahead they could see Dumbledore. They'd made it just in time as he had just closed the doors but hadn't locked them yet. In unison, Harry and Hermione gave a sigh of relief. They entered the Hospital Wing. The click of the lock told them that Dumbledore had just locked them in for the night.
Ron was still unconscious, his leg in a split. Madam Pomfrey hadn't been able to mend it yet.
"Not until he wakes up," she'd said, "then I can give him some skelegrow."
Harry and Hermione climbed into the beds on either side of Ron; both playing out the nights events in their heads as sleep consumed them.