It was over two weeks since Hermione collapsed in the Gryffindor common room. She had spent a considerable amount of that time in the hospital wing under the watchful eye of Madame Pomfrey and usually as much time that Harry and Ron could get away to see her. The ice cold pain in her head was still there it was just simply dulled. She had wished that she could get away to the library to try to find some explanation of what was happening to her. Her mind had gone mad with different theories; dark magic, werewolves, Voldemort. She thought that was Dumbledore had presumed. He had asked her on many occasions if she knew what she had seen. But all that she could remember was gold and green, and a face. A face that she couldn't place; that echoing laughter that rung in her ears. It was a menacing laugh. Almost as if it belonged to someone that could never be taught or restrained. It resonated off a growl that sounded like a griffin preparing to roar. Hermione knew to fear that laugh. The face however was broken and sad. The face of a person who's heart had been broken suddenly. It had a bluish tinge to it and the eyes were so light in colour that they didn't belong to that much sorrow. She passed of the face as simply a nightmare and pushed the thought to the back of her head. Hermione didn't know when she was going to be allowed to leave the hospital, a few days, and few weeks possibly. The damage to her head was too extreme to be treated with magic (so she had been told on numerous occasions) that she would have to let it heal naturally. But how do you heal something that you don't know about? How do you fix something so distance? Apparently she had been hit with something that was similar to a protronus; it was as if she had been hit with someone's entire soul. Maybe it's the faces' soul? Had whoever that that face and laughter belong to tried to kill her with their thoughts?

That night, as Hermione slept, all of the candles in the hospital wing went dark. Even the small flickering flame in a jar that Hermione made to soothe herself had blown out. She shuffled in her sleep from the sudden freezing wind that rolled along the floor of the room. A blue mist began to flood its way in and around the beds. Suddenly there was a crack like the lash of a whip as someone entered the room. The tall, slender figure walked swiftly towards Hermione's bed. It put one thin hand down and almost touched her face, but quickly pulled away.

"Hush, sleep now my dear." The voice softly sighed. The figure took one step back, looked at Hermione sleeping and closed his eyes.

Loki was sat in the centre of his room, cross legged, eyes closed shut. Suddenly his eyes jolted open and he swung a bit like he had been pushed backwards. He pushed his hand through his long black hair and the corner of his mouth curved upwards into a smile. He now knew where to find this midgaurdian witch, just not how to get there. Loki had been watching her all day and by what she had told that female healer she had only seen colours. Loki still didn't know how exactly he had telepathically sent this girl his thoughts. It was fairly easy to send his thoughts throughout Asgaurd but somewhere as far as midguard. Loki had never even travelled that far! He was tempted to simply ask Odin if he would allow Loki to travel to midguard to try to see this witch himself, but though past experience he knew that wasn't usually a good idea. He was defiantly going to have to get there on his own.

Loki decided that he was going to wake up earlier than anyone else the next morning and find a way out of Asgaurd. Knew there was going to be some sort of way out of this prison.

Ok, yes this chapter was really awful but I really can't think of anything to write. I've got some good ideas for when they meet and I think it will make it better because there will actually be a bit of conversation.