HPOV
Because sleep is red and angry, and full of pain and nightmares, I fight it. I fight to stay awake, fight to stay alert, so I can control my fears, point out to myself that, rationally and logically, I'm out of danger and no longer under threat. There's no reason to be scared now. There's always someone here, a visitor, now they're finally letting me have them. I'm never alone. Seamus himself is guarding my door while every single member of his department undergoes the most rigorous checks we can perform. We'll know how many hairs there are on each of their heads by the end of this, in addition to knowing exactly where they're loyalties lie. There are no loopholes any more. Harry relieves Seamus each day, and nobody else stands out there. Blaise is doing some sort of endlessly noble activity, and standing outside the entrance to the bloody corridor. Draco has been discharged, and he's dealing with the livid purple scar on his face, and Blaise seems to be helping with that too.
I know something's happened with them all - with Harry, Draco, Blaise, the Weasleys - but nobody is telling me what. Ginny only says that some things that needed to be said were said, and that Blaise was the one who said them. But whatever it was about, they can all at least be in the same room without a terrible atmosphere infecting everyone. I'll have to worm it out of Harry.
But of course, I can't stay awake forever. I have to sleep, and it's not quite as terrible as I thought it would have become. I've had worse nightmares. They're letting me out tomorrow, with a couple of follow-up appointments for this - and an Outpatients psychiatric schedule. I suppose it's something I've been needing to confront for quite some time. Blaise is there, looking a bit like Samuel L Jackson in Pulp Fiction. I wouldn't be surprised if he whips a gun out and dares somebody to say what again. Luna is there too.
"Hermione, if you say no, it's fine, but I've approved somebody from the Prophet to take a photo and a brief statement, just to confirm that you're being discharged. Harry or Blaise can do it if you'd rather not."
"I would rather not."
"I'll do it, Hermione, Harry can get you home."
"You're still coming on Sunday, so we can go to Molly's together?"
"Yes, I'll call you."
"OK."
Harry sneaks us out the back entrance, and gets me into the front seat of the car, bundling me well up in a blanket and even doing up my seatbelt. I can't even be bothered to protest - my newly grown nails are still tender to the touch, and I'm just tired. Draco is already at home, and he's waiting at the gate for us. Completely ignoring Harry, he undoes my belt and picks me up, blanket and all.
"You can bring her bag, Harry?"
"Sure. Don't drop her."
"Stronger than I look." I wait until we're out of Harry's earshot.
"Did you just call him Harry?" I whisper in his ear.
"Shut up."
"Oooo, touchy one, aren't we."
"I will drop you. I care not how ill you are, I will put you on these stairs and leave you."
"Bully."
"Hmm, yes, you want dinner?"
"Yes," I say, in a happy voice. "Hospital food is disgusting."
"Agreed. Molly sent some food over via Ginny yesterday, and she and Harry got the shopping done for us, so we're all set for a while. And then on Sunday, she'll be feeding you up." He puts me into bed very gently. "I seem to spend a lot of time putting you into bed after hospital stays."
"Hopefully this is the last time. Can you prop me up a bit?" He's very gentle, holding me with one arm that seems very strong and fluffing my pillows with the other.
"That alright?"
"Yeah. You should have been a nurse, you're very good."
"I think I screwed up any chance of being allowed to do that."
"In the Wizarding world, yes, but not the Muggle world. You could train to be a Muggle nurse."
"Maybe. You comfortable?"
"Yes, thank you. How long do I have to stay here?"
"Just for today, I promise. Kingsley says no work until the start of the next calendar month though, and he also said you don't get to argue with him, and that if you show up before then in any official capacity, he'll have you escorted off the premises."
"Alright, alright. What's that, a couple of weeks?"
"Two weeks and three days, you go back on Monday 3rd. Kevin is in charge. He promises not to mess with the filing. Shall I go and get the Monopoly out?" I smirk at him. He loves monopoly, after I taught him how to play a few weeks back. He's slowly getting better - but I am the all time queen of monopoly.
"You'll never beat me."
"Granger, logic dictates that one day I will kick your butt."
"You keep thinking that. Go on then. Ask Harry if he wants to play. He's another one who's convinced he can beat me."
I hear him clatter about downstairs, his voice and Harry's, then two sets of feet on the stairs. Harry pulls the table from under the window over, and he and Draco set the board up beside my bed so I can sit on the bed wrapped in my duvet and they can sit on chairs each side of me.
"I'm being the dog," I say.
"No. I'm convinced the reason you always win is because of that dog. I'll be the dog," Harry says.
"Fine, if you think it'll help. I'll be the iron."
"I will be the top hat," Draco says, arranging our pieces on the board. "Highest roll?" Harry wins, so he goes first, and we stick to usual rules - no buying on the first round, and free parking means one claims the money from fines and so on after the first round. It's a really nice game, actually, and there's no fighting between the boys and no horrible tension.
"For dodging speeding fine, go to Jail. Do not pass GO, do not collect £200. Oh, for goodness sake," Harry moans. "I would never dodge a speeding fine." He glances over the board. "You get a ten, Hermione, I will have to hurt you." I smile and roll the dice. I get twelve, miss free parking, and land on a Chance. The boys actually high five each other.
"Win Beauty Pageant, collect £100. Nice!"
"OK, she's cheating," Draco states to Harry. "Check her sleeves!"
"I'm recovering. Get away or I'll hurt you."
"OK, I need a nine for free parking," Draco says, rolling the dice. "Oh, yeah, that's the stuff!" He collects what's got to be at least a grand, and smirks at me. "Might be my day, Granger, are you ready to taste defeat?"
"You're not going to win, Malfoy."
"How does one leave Jail?" Harry asks plaintively.
"One misses a turn and then has to roll even," I say, teasing his formality.
"OK." I roll the dice again, and land on one of Draco's streets. "How much without anything on it?"
"£100."
"For you. Get a five and it's Mayfair central with a hotel."
"Oh good grief."
"Roll, honey, and then embrace defeat!"
"Oh goodness."
"Draco, don't you dare roll five, I'm not having her win this one as well." He rolls a seven, and promptly buys Baker Street.
"And I'll put a hotel on there."
"OK, give me evens!" Harry says. He gets it, and we carry on with our game.
I win, but only by a couple of hundred. Draco laughs at me and teases me about my defeat coming very soon.
"I'll go down in history as the only person to have ever defeated the Golden Girl."
"At a game of Monopoly, how wonderful your legacy would be for your children."
"You have to eat now, I'm going to make you dinner. Harry, why don't you whack her on the head and knock her out. We can feed her through a tube."
"You are a dazzling example of hilarity."
"Is he?" Harry quips. He and Draco clatter off downstairs.
Ginny comes by later, and she and I talk while Harry and Draco have a couple of beers downstairs, which turns into a fair few beers while they watch a football game and Draco asks regular questions about "the broomless Quidditch". Ginny takes one look at her husband and decides he's too drunk to drive home or to Apparate. She makes up a bed for him on my sofa and puts Draco to bed. I get myself up, ignoring her protests, and insist she shares my bed.
"You're pregnant, Ginny. You're not sleeping on my couch. You're going to get a good night in a good bed."
"Will it shut you up and get you back into bed if I agree?"
"It will."
"Then we have an arrangement." We snuggle down together and I'm reminded of nights in Gryffindor Tower when one or both of us was upset or scared by something, we'd bed down together and just hold hands to comfort each other. Tonight, she reaches out and takes my hand again.
"Hermione, can I ask you something?"
"You can," I say, sleepily.
"Is there something going on with you and Blaise?" My eyes snap open.
"What?"
"Well, just I thought I'd ask, because maybe you wanted someone to."
"Shut up."
"OK." We smile in the dark.
"But is there?"
"No."
"Will there be?" I consider the answer to this question.
"I don't know." We don't talk again after that, and I turn my back to her so I can settle on my side. She slips an arm around my waist and that's how we settle for the night. It's nicely companionable, and it makes me feel anchored.
It's nice.