A/N: Wow. Another chapter has arrived, after 3 months on hiatus :( I sincerely apologise for the extreme delay, I just had a lot to catch up on in my life, and had a lot catching up with me. The complete writers block didn't help either...(lol, Writers Block - private joke, don't worry 'bout it...) Anyway, it's here and all ready for reviewing. That's a hint, by the way ;)

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Chapter 7 – Unwanted Memories

Garbed as she was in her biggest, fluffiest dressing gown, Hermione felt ready for anything. The soft bunny slippers were a nice addition, however necessary owing to the large expanse of cold, stone floor of her chambers that wasn't covered by the plush rug. With a quick last-minute glance in the full-length mirror ("You're not going out, are you? Well, stay warm, you don't want to get that cold back…") she left the room and descended the stairs.

The familiar hum of a crowded room reached her even before she could see the glow emanating from the bottom of the staircase. Standing nervously in the doorway, the pink-clad figure silently observed the array of Gryffindor students lounging in all corners of the common room. Not one noticed her. The thought was a little depressing, but she was determined to work things out once and for all with the boys.

Hermione could see Harry and Ron in their customary seats by the open fire, bent over an enormous pile of books and parchment. The old, but surprisingly comfortable armchair that she had claimed such a long time ago had been moved from it's position near the hearth to where a small cluster of first years sat on the opposite side of the room. A seed of doubt entered her mind. Perhaps they're busy, perhaps now isn't a good time…

Something large, warm and remarkably heavy slammed into her side, propelling her across to where the two boys worked, effectively making the decision for her. As it turned out, the big heavy object was actually Neville.

"Oh, sorry Hermione, sorry. Seamus's idea, you see. No, no, not to knock you over, the Invisible Airbag. He got it from Fred and George's in Hogsmeade last week. You walk into it without realising it's there, and bang! Out of nowhere you go flying in the opposite direction. I don't suppose you want a go?" Neville moved to give her a hand getting up.

Hermione winced as she accepted the offered arm, feeling new bruises with every movement. Something really had to be done about the hard, uneven floor of the tower. Once standing, she found herself face to face with Seamus, who was looking distinctly less apologetic than Neville had.

"It wasn't all my idea, besides, Neville volunteered to test it. Well, we volunteered him," he said with a shrug, indicating the huddle of sixth and seventh years over near the portrait hole. "Are you alright?"

Hermione tried to keep a straight face while trying to determine whether or not her hip was broken. Evidently, judging by the level of concern shown by Harry, who had moved from the fire to the scene, she hadn't succeeded. Ron, standing behind Harry, glared at Seamus, who shrugged but backed away.

"We'd better get you to Madam Pomfrey, 'Mione, that was one heck of a fall," Harry said, admiringly. Hermione snorted at his tone.

"Not half as impressive as falling fifty feet off a broomstick!" She grinned, still a somewhat awkward feeling. The fleeting thought of her ever-so recent depression soured her mood a little, and the bruises along her left side became even more prominent in her mind. Harry gently lifted her arm to his shoulder and helped her to the portrait hole and out into the corridor, Ron tagging along behind.

Even as she limped down the twisting labyrinth of halls and passages from the tower to the hospital wing, Hermione couldn't help but be painfully aware of Harry's persistent closeness; the way his steps were in time with hers, and the way he drew her arm closer around himself. She knew perfectly well about his feelings for her, she knew why he and Ron had gone to her room that night, and she knew that it was Harry that had left the crystal behind.

Right now, when she was so terribly confused as it was, those feelings were exactly what she didn't need.

***

"Now what have you been doing, Miss Granger? Trying to walk through walls?"

The friendly matron chuckled as she applied a poultice to the obvious bruises on Hermione's side, and prodded her swollen hip with her wand. Hermione winced, and Madam Pomfrey nodded sagely. "Just what I thought, you've fractured it. Just a moment…"

For what seemed to be entire minutes, but in reality was only a second or so, Hermione felt her hip grow hot, red-hot, and she gasped and clutched at Harry's arm. But it passed within moments, and felt immediately better for it. She stood and walked around the room, to the plump matron's approval, before thanking her and beginning the long walk back to the Gryffindor tower.

The three students were engaged in a conversation about Quidditch as they made their way through the corridors. Well, the two boys talked and Hermione listened, reminding her again of how much she had missed over the last year or so. In any case, it meant that Hermione was the first to notice their silent observer.

"Good evening, Professor," she said, coolly.

Professor Snape stepped out from the shadows. "I hope you all have good reason for being out of your common room," he said, cold eyes glinting even in the semi-darkness.

"I fractured my hip in the common room, Professor. Ron and Harry helped me to the hospital wing."

"I'm glad to see you are alright," Snape replied, in his usual sarcastic manner. Noticing her attire, namely the rabbit slippers, he added, "It is almost eight, Miss Granger, I'm sure you will have time to change, if you hurry." With that he swept off in the opposite direction, presumably on another nightly patrol. The boys looked puzzled, and Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead. The detention. She'd completely forgotten about it.

All thoughts of finally having the reveal-all conversation with her best friends were banished, having only enough time to run to the common room, change into her robes and get back to the dungeons by eight o'clock. Damn the bastard.

***

"Now half an ounce of powdered asphodel, slowly girl, stir it in slowly!" The Potions Master gave an exasperated sigh, as if he were teaching a group of particularly thick first years how to make the most basic of Lethargy Potions. Hermione struggled to keep her body language neutral while sitting at the front desk of the potions lab silently fuming.

So, he knew.

Hermione felt sick. Without telling her exactly what it was she was brewing, Snape had been giving her step-by-step instructions in the preparation of the potion she had to create for her detention. An unjustified detention at that. Inwardly, she groaned. An unfair detention with Snape meant only one thing...

"Do you know what it is that you are making yet, Miss Granger?" The words hung in the air, accompanied by a mirthless smirk.

"Yes, professor."

"Well, aren't you going to show off your deductive prowess? Come on girl, out with it!"

Hermione swallowed, her anger melting into fear. "It's a Recollection Potion, professor," she said, in a tone close to a whisper.

"And is it finished?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Why don't you test it? You will only need a ladleful." The sallow Potions Master looked faintly amused.

Hermione looked faintly nauseous.

Knowing that he'd won was enough to make her ill as it was. She had only two options now - to sabotage her own potion, or to drink it. She didn't like the consequences of either. However, her need to redeem herself, after the previous miserable year, overcame her fear of the unknown. Steeling herself, she grasped the silver ladle, heavy in her hand, and slowly dipped it into the simmering potion. The concoction smelt vaguely of lavender, the familiar scent calming her slightly as she raised it to her mouth.

A quick swallow and a grimace later, Hermione felt none the worse for wear. It was a full minute before the potion began to take effect, her professor looking on intently the whole time. And then she cried.

***