Pain.
Her whole body was pain. There were no other feelings or sensations. She opened her eyes and even that tiny action hurt. One look at the ceiling told her she was in the Hospital Wing; she had been there more times than she cared to count.
"Hermione?" a timid voice came from her left hand side. She did not need to look to know that it was Ron. "Hermione, are you okay?"
She gave the smallest nod of her head and heard Ron breathe a sigh of relief before calling out, "Madame Pomfrey! Madame Pomfrey, she's awake!"
The stern matron came out of her office immediately, pulling her wand out of the front of her apron and mumbling about 'teenagers thinking they can duel adults and not come out of it worse for wear.' Hermione heard her footsteps approach the bed she lay in and then stop, Madame Pomfrey's irritable face appearing over her.
"Miss Granger, I'm going to need you to sit up in order to give you your pain relief potion. It will undoubtedly hurt, you have no broken bones, heaven knows how not, but that was a nasty jinx you were hit with. The potion will take effect as soon as you drink it, so no time like the present!" And with that, she pulled Hermione's arm around her neck and heaved her into a sitting position. Hermione gritted her teeth in agony, a tear rolling down her cheek. She willed her mouth to open and let the matron pour a foul-smelling burnt orange coloured potion down her throat.
As promised, the pain instantly dulled. Hermione's body was extremely weak and she felt more exhausted than she had ever felt in her life, but she hurt less and for that, she could have kissed Madame Pomfrey. She settled on a quiet 'thank you' before collapsing back into the soft pillows.
Madame Pomfrey turned the corners of her mouth up into a small smile for Hermione before her usual stern expression returned. "There's more where that came from, and another nine you'll have to take throughout the day. Now, however, sleep is the best medicine for you."
With that, she retreated back into her office, mumbling once again. As soon as her door clicked shut, Hermione turned to face Ron for the first time since waking.
"Where's Ha-" she began, because although the beds in the Hospital Wing were almost all full, she could not see her other best friend. The state of Ron's arms stopped her question, however. Deep welts covered him from wrist to shoulder. They were a pale pink shade, which suggested that they were currently under Madame Pomfrey's excellent supervision, but looked dreadful nonetheless.
"Your arms!" she gasped. "What happened?"
"Brains," Ron replied, as if this fully explained the matter. When Hermione raised her eyebrows, he added, "Remember there was a tank of them in one of the rooms we went in? We ended up in there again after you'd been cursed. The Death Eaters hit me with this weird spell, made me go all funny, and I summoned them from the tank. Those tentacles coming from them wrapped themselves around my arms." He shrugged. "Madam Pomfrey said it was something to do with thoughts leaving deep scars. She's been putting this lotion on that seems to be working though."
"And Harry? Where's Harry?" Hermione asked now that she knew Ron was alright, holding her breath for his answer.
"He's with Dumbledore. Reckon he'll be a while…" he trailed off and picked at a thread on the sheet covering him, and Hermione knew in that moment that there was something he was not telling her.
"Ron? Ron, what's happened? What aren't you telling me? Harry is okay isn't he?"
"Physically, he's fine. It's just, er… Lupin brought us all here, to make sure we were alright, y'know?" He gestured to the other beds, where Ginny, Neville and Luna were sleeping. "Madame Pomfrey insisted they rested here for a bit, she said they can go when they wake up but we've got to stay here longer…"
"Ron Weasley, tell me what is going on this instant!" Hermione demanded sitting up as much as her ribs would allow.
"It's Sirius, Hermione. Sirius is gone… Bellatrix hit him with the killing curse and he fell through that veil thing. He's dead."
His words hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. Sirius could not be dead; Ron must be mistaken. Maybe the Death Eater's spell or the brains were still confusing him. That had to be it. Life would not be so cruel to take Sirius away from Harry after they had known each other for such a short time.
"No," she said firmly. "That's not right, you must still be confused, Ron. I'll have Madame Pomfrey come and take another look at you."
Ron shook his head and slowly got up from his bed and made his way over to Hermione's. He perched himself on the edge of it and took her hand. Even in the bright early morning light that filled the Hospital Wing he looked pale. "I wish I was. You should have seen Lupin when he told me…" he paused and shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the memory. "Harry's been with Dumbledore for ages…well over an hour. What will we say when we see him, Hermione?"
She shrugged feebly, ignoring the ache that the action caused in her chest. For once Hermione did not have the answer. Tears fell silently down her face as she accepted the horrible truth; Sirius had gone.
She freed her hand from Ron and wiped her nose on her sleeve in an unladylike fashion, idly noticing her clothes were unchanged, but no longer covered in the dust and grime from the rooms in the depth of the Department of Mysteries. It was undoubtedly the work of Madame Pomfrey, who would never have let Hermione lie in one of her beds covered in filth. Ron awkwardly patted Hermione on the back in what she knew was meant to be a comforting action, and though it caused a spasm of pain each time, she didn't protest.
They sat together that way for a while longer, in which time Madame Pomfrey visited Neville, Luna and Ginny's beds. She returned to her office, content that the three were sleeping, but with a silent disapproving glare at Ron and Hermione for being awake.
Shortly after, the Hospital Wing doors swung open and a forlorn-looking Harry entered.
Hermione gasped, and she and Ron both exclaimed, "Harry!
"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry…" Hermione used Ron's leg to lean on and try to push herself off the bed but he pushed her back down as Harry bolted forward and sat on the brown armchair between his friends' beds. Ron stood up and returned to his own bed.
"Don't get up, Hermione. How are you? That spell you got hit with looked horrible, I thought you were…" Harry trailed off and hung his head.
"I'm fine, Madame Pomfrey is giving me a potion that's helping. Never mind me, how are you? Ron told me about Si-"
"Stop," Harry cut her off. "Please, don't. I don't want to talk about him."
"Okay, Harry. But you'll have to sometime," she warned him. "Don't just bottle everything up, please."
She knew that the last thing Harry needed was her nagging, but the memories of the way he had been way back in the summer holidays when he had finally been allowed to join them at Grimmauld place were still fresh in her head. Harry keeping things tohimself never ended well.
"Hermione's right, mate. I don't think any of us want another year of you shouting at us every five minutes." Ron added, trying to lighten the mood.
Harry gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulders and Hermione said nothing more on the matter. A silence fell over the group for a long time, in which Ron fell asleep. It was finally broken by the hospital wing doors swinging open, followed by a squat figure being levitated through them. Professor Snape and Dumbledore followed the figure, the latter with his wand stretched out in front of him. Hermione shrunk down a little further in her bed, and she saw Harry out of the corner of her eye leaning back a little into the curtain that was gathered behind his chair. She noticed Dumbledore glance over to their beds and give the tiniest of winks before turning back to Professor Snape.
"Severus, please fetch Madame Pomfrey and tell her that I have located Dolores. She seems uninjured for the most part but I suspect she will need a calming potion when the stunning spell lifts. I do wish she hadn't fought so much against me helping her…"
Hermione knew she ought to feel relief that Umbridge had been saved from the angry centaurs, or even guilty that it had been her fault they had taken her in the first place, but a loud voice in her head told her that the wretched woman had gotten everything she deserved.
She and Harry watched Dumbledore lower Umbridge on to an empty bed at the far end of the room. Madame Pomfrey joined them, and Hermione could have sworn she heard her ask Dumbledore in a low whisper if waking her up was necessary. When the stunning spell was lifted, Umbridge immediately began to struggle, yelling about half-breeds and the Minister for Magic and demanding she be given her wand. It took both Dumbledore and Snape to restrain her long enough for Madam Pomfrey to pour the golden calming potion into her mouth, and thankfully it took effect immediately. She slumped back onto the pillows and to Hermione's amusement, began snoring louder than Ron.
She turned to Harry to pass comment on the noise, and was surprised to see him slouched in the armchair, fast asleep. He looked uncomfortable, and his troubled thoughts were evident in the way he was frowning and his forehead was lined even in slumber, but Hermione did not wake him to tell him to at least climb into one of the spare beds. An uncomfortable sleep was better than none after all.
Hermione rested her head back on her pillow, taking shallow breathes to try and ease the lingering pain in her ribs, and before long her eyes became too heavy to keep open. She closed them and succumbed to the exhaustion she had been trying to fight since she first woke up.
A loud snore from Ron woke Hermione up with a start. She looked over to his bed to see him lying on his back, his head turned towards her and his mouth wide open. In the seat between their beds, Harry was still sleeping, too. Hermione hadn't intended to fall asleep but the exhaustion from the days' events had finally caught up to her. She turned on her side slowly, trying to get herself comfortable enough to go back to sleep, but something dug into her pocket at her hip and she quickly turned back.
She reached into her pocket, and realised as soon as her fingers brushed the hard metal object exactly what had caused her discomfort. She pulled the stolen Time-Turner out and held it in both hands after scanning the room to check Madam Pomfrey wasn't there. How could she have forgotten about it? So much had happened through the night; it was natural that she had pushed it to the back of her mind, especially with the curse she had suffered and Sirius…
Sirius! She glanced at her wrist and was dismayed to see her watch missing. A frantic search through the drawers of her bedside table led her to the silver wristwatch, which told her it was almost lunchtime.
She was too late.
When Hermione had been given a Time-Turner in her third year, Professor McGonagall had spent a great deal of time explaining the rules and risks of time travel. She had shared plenty of horror stories to scare Hermione into only ever using it for her studies, and at the time Hermione had found it preposterous that she would ever consider using it for anything else. Now, however, Hermione was cursing herself that she had missed her opportunity to use it to save Sirius. Five hours, Professor McGonagall had told her; that was the furthest amount of time a person could go back with using a Time-Turner. Any longer than that and there was too high a risk that one could change significant events in time, or to the time traveller themselves. The fact had come as a result of Hermione asking the obvious question of why no-one had used the devices to go back and stop Voldemort in his first rise to power.
It had been well over five hours since Sirius died, and though Hermione had no clue what she would have done to prevent his death when the idea first occurred to her, she felt annoyed with herself nonetheless. A fresh wave of injustice washed over her in the quiet Hospital Wing, it was awful for Harry to lose Sirius after such a short time with him. She wished she had remembered the Time-Turner as soon as she'd woken the first time, and at least had the chance to try and save Sirius.
She shoved her watch and the time turner back in the bedside table and slammed the drawer closed in frustration, vowing to put it in the bottom of her trunk and forget about it as soon as she could. The slamming sound made Ron jump slightly, and mumble something about brains before he rolled over and began to snore again.
