Knowing Danger

Disclaimer: Only the plot is mine. Latin belongs to the Ancient Romans, all Harry Potter things belong to JK.

A/N: Thanks for 430 reviews goes to: Queen Li, asd, willowfairy, Zubie (x2), KAOS, plastic, The Dragon Guardian Of The Sea, Sao, dracoNmione, KeeperOfTheMoon, Amanda, Dark_Devil, MaliShka, Cassie, Hp1fan, lexi wood, Katrina Littlebird, Red Magic Marker, Sanaria, MysticalStormz, Yousei Kaijou, firey fairy, angkat14, hyper_shark, mya14, ~* paper star *~, Sarah, MoonDancerCat, WormmonABC, JoeBob1379, draconas, Some one, Lucy, Akida Lupin, mutsumi, JAMtilldawn, Akira Gown, JoyNspirit, Jessica, StarJade, Angel: da Newsies fan, Rebecca, kei-chan, silvermoon, Cat, Purple People Eater, Dragonsbane, danapotter, Anon, A little princess, aliveforever83(x2), bookworm12, Crystal princess.

Questions: Someone pointed out that in the books you couldn't bring people back to life when they were dead. However, even Muggles can revive people who have been clinically dead for four minutes without oxygen, according to my mother who's a midwife. And at cold temperatures, such as there were in the lake, people can even be brought back to life after well over half an hour of being dead. Hermione, in my estimation, was probably 'dead' for a minute or two at most. Think of the 'Vivere' charm as the wizard version of CPR (Incidentally, according to my mother's latest CPR course the best way to remember how to do CPR is the tune of 'Nellie the Elephant'. You know the one - 'Nellie the elephant packed her trunk, and said goodbye to the circus.' e.t.c. I swear if anyone has a heart attack in the middle of the street I'm going to fall over laughing from remembering that.)

Yes, I do read every single review. Probably at least twice when I get them, and then again when I update so I can check for questions/update list requests. I do have school and stuff. I have a very selective method of doing homework, which means that most of it gets done, normally in the morning/lunchtime before it's due in.

Other: Latest news on the HP grapevine: The publication date for Book 5 has just been announced on Radio 4, according to my parents. The date is set, in England at least, for the 21st June. Note that date.

Now everything necessary has been said. here's the chapter. Featuring the hospital wing, conversations, and an explanation of that strange energy thing.

~*~

The hospital wing never seemed to decline into darkness. Even now, as twilight fell, the curtained partition around Hermione's bed was merely a silvered grey, as though this room was neutral to both darkness and light. The greyness seemed to settle like dust, creating puddles and pools wherever it could.

Hermione was restless. Madam Pomfrey had almost had a fit when she saw them at the entrance to the hospital wing, with dry clothes thanks to a well- remembered spell, but still shivering from the cold. She'd almost had hysterics when she heard of Hermione's near-death experience (a term which Hermione disliked, considering it far too melodramatic). As a result, she'd demanded that both she and Draco spend the night for observation. She proved to be a hypocrite, as she had left little over an hour ago for a drink at the Three Broomsticks.

The sheets were crisp, heavy, and only slightly more pliable than cardboard. They seemed to pin her to the mattress, encasing her in a prison of cotton. She was perfectly fine now: she wanted to be up in the Gryffindor common room, laughing with Harry and Ron and a mug of hot chocolate, preferably with cream and marshmallows. The hospital wing was a place of healing, but there was no life in it: it was grey and dull, clinical and lifeless.

Still, at least she had a chance to think. Draco was on the other side of the curtained partition, in his own private area of grey shadow, presumably asleep. Had she really remembered something when she almost died? She flicked through the memory again, looking for any detail she might have missed. The whole thing was vague and formless, like a dream.

However feeble it was, it reassured her. She had made a start: got one memory back, at least. And now she had one, what was to stop the rest returning? Lucius had made a mistake: erasing such large portions of memory never works properly, according to the books Hermione had found in the library. There were always ways little bits of information could slip back.

And now one had. It was like a ray of hope, shining through dark clouds. It was the cornerstone upon which she could rebuild the life Lucius had stolen, the ashes from which a phoenix could arise. It was the first step on the road, and Hermione was confident she could complete the journey.

'I'm going to get my memory back.' she vowed to the silent hospital wing, her voice resolute.

She hadn't expected Draco to be awake, and therefore when he spoke just less than a minute later, it came as a bit of a surprise. More surprising, though, was what he said.

'Why?'

Hermione frowned. Why?

'What do you mean?'

It was a strange experience, waiting for him to speak without being able to see him. Not that she'd have been able to read much of his expression anyway; he always seemed so guarded.

'Well.' came his voice from behind the curtain. 'I know you didn't like me much before we. before things changed. If you've forgotten everything that happened, you should hate me still. So. why are you doing this?'

There was a pause. Hermione didn't quite know what to say, what answer he wanted to hear. His tone hadn't given her any clues, and the only definite emotion she could get from his voice was an almost childlike questioning. The silence between them grew steadily more uncomfortable.

'I'm sorry,' Draco said eventually, 'I shouldn't have asked.'

'No, it's fine. I don't mind.' Hermione decided to settle for honesty. She took a breath, automatically composing her answer as though it were just another question in an exam.

'You see, I've always tried to memorise things for school, and therefore.'

Draco broke the flow of her incipient speech with a quiet snort.

'What?' Hermione asked indignantly

'Tried to memorise things? Hermione, I'd be surprised if there was a textbook in that library you don't know by heart. That was one of the very few topics that I could agree on with your two sidekicks.'

'Harry and Ron.' she corrected automatically. Draco's voice seemed livelier, almost laughing, and some subconscious part of her was glad that he was happy.

'It never felt right calling each other by first names, you know.' His voice sounded mischievously flippant. 'We'd really be much happier at each other's throats with a decent knowledge of some nasty curses and a wand. And possibly a sword as well.'

'Well I wouldn't be happy.' Hermione pointed out.

'I know. And that's why all three of us are still alive.'

Silence fell, and the humorous air drifted away as they both remembered the more serious topic they'd only been trying to postpone. Hermione sighed.

'I suppose. I've always depended on memorising things to succeed. I was prepared for anything if I knew the right answers. I knew I'd always succeed.' She wasn't quite sure why she was telling Draco this: except that subconscious part of her felt he needed to know, needed. what, exactly? Reassurance?

'Whenever I try to think about. before, there's a sort of gap. Only it's not just an empty space, it's a huge area of blankness, if you know what I mean. Like a hole, or like being blind. And I want to fill it. It scares me, and I want to fill it.'

She paused reflectively. 'I hate your father for this, Draco. I haven't forgotten anything about hating him. Except sometimes I can't remember all the reasons why I hate him.'

She was silent, feeling as though some tidal wave had just washed over her. She felt as though something had just been lightened: the burden of the memory loss was no less heavy, but now she felt Draco could share in it more. Before they had both had their own, very specific problems that just happened to share the same origin. But now. now it felt like they shared the same difficulty, the same struggle.

'Is that a good enough reason for you?' she asked with a weak smile, half teasing.

'Yes.' Draco replied, and she was glad to hear his questioning tone gone, replaced with a kind of contentment. A contentment that believed, not that everything was all right, but that it would be.

'I suppose, when it comes to this, there's no such thing as a bad reason.' Hermione speculated.

'There is.' Draco said, sounding slightly distant. 'Sympathy.'

'Sympathy?' echoed Hermione.

'If you were going to get your memory back', Draco began, no longer sounding distant, 'I'd want it to be because it was what you wanted. I'd want you to do it for yourself, not because. you felt sorry for me. Does that make sense?'

Hermione considered this. 'Yes. It does.'

'Really?' He sounded surprised: Hermione couldn't suppress a little laugh. She looked over at the curtain; unable to see through it but knowing Draco was there.

'Of course it does.'

~*~

Hermione didn't know when she fell asleep after their conversation. It might have been five minutes later, it might have been hours. But when she awoke it was morning, the curtains had been drawn back and the harsh bright winter sun was shining upon her, picking out the room in shades of glaring white.

Draco was lying in the bed next to her, looking cross, sulky and faintly ridiculous with a wizard thermometer in his mouth. Before she could so much as snort, he had cast her a glare that warned her very firmly against the consequences of saying anything. Despite the glitter in his eye, she decided that probably the best course of action was to lie in bed, watching him out of the corner of her eye and wishing for a camera.

Madam Pomfrey entered, beaming at Hermione. 'Good morning.' she smiled, taking the thermometer out of Draco's mouth. It looked exactly like a thin white stick.

The nurse did something to the thermometer that Hermione couldn't quite see, and the stick announced in a clear androgynous voice, 'Thirty-six point eight degrees. Normal human body temperature.'

'That sounds like good news.' came a voice, and Hermione's eyes flicked to the door where Albus Dumbledore had slipped into the room, silent as a cat.

'It is, Albus. He doesn't seem to have caught anything, thankfully. Now, dear,' she said, moving to Hermione's side, 'it's your turn.'

Hermione watched warily as she cleaned the thermometer with a muttered, 'Purgo', and unwillingly accepted the uncomfortable thermometer. It was exactly like a muggle thermometer, but without the mercury or markings up the side, and with the ability to speak.

'If you wouldn't mind, Poppy, I would like a word with these two.' Dumbledore asked politely.

'Of course, Albus.' Madam Pomfrey smiled, adding to Hermione, 'Keep that thermometer in, and don't talk unless it's absolutely necessary.'

Dumbledore sat down as the nurse left, adjusting his glasses. 'The two of you do seem to be getting into a lot of danger recently.'

Hermione opened her mouth to explain, utterly forgetting about the thermometer, which would have fallen out if she hadn't grabbed it quickly. Dumbledore held up a hand.

'Yes, yes, I do realise that you do not do it on purpose. However.' he paused, the familiar twinkle dimming, 'Mr. Malfoy, I wonder if you could tell me whether anything. unusual happened yesterday?'

'More unusual than being attacked by a giant squid?' Draco asked, and Hermione could see in her mind's eye his raised eyebrow.

Dumbledore smiled. 'I was thinking of something magically unusual.'

The flippant look vanished from Draco's face, and he frowned. 'Something did happen. Just after Hermione was dead.'

'Could you describe it to me?' queried Dumbledore.

Hermione had the feeling that something very serious had happened without her knowledge. She desperately wanted to know, but the thermometer prevented her from speaking. Angrily, she gave the thin stick a shove to one side with her tongue, as if it were to blame.

Draco was thinking. 'Like a tingling feeling, but much stronger. And I think there was a glow as well, but I may have been imagining that.'

Glowing? Hermione grabbed the thermometer stick, opening her moth with indignation. 'A what? Why didn't you tell me?' she asked.

Well I was rather concerned with the fact that you had just died.' Draco retorted. 'And besides, I didn't think it was anything important. Was it important?' He asked Dumbledore.

'I believe so.' The headmaster sighed. 'You have, if I am correct, saved Miss Granger's life three times now?'

Three? A part of Hermione's mind asked with more resignation than amazement. Was it really that many?

'There was yesterday, and the time we were escaping and Harry dropped her.' Draco conceded. 'But I can't think of a third time.'

Rolling her eyes, Hermione grabbed the thermometer again, holding it still so she could speak. It ought to be perfectly obvious to anyone. 'When the Death Eaters were attacking Hogwarts and you jumped in the path of Avada Kedavra.'

'It couldn't be then, because I didn't save your life; Ron did.' Draco pointed out.

'Ah.' said Dumbledore. 'I am certain Miss Granger could explain the reasoning behind that, but as she ought not to talk at the moment suffice it to say that anything to do with saving people's lives is part of a very old kind of magic. What has really happened, from the magic's point of view, is that you saved Miss Granger's life and Mr. Weasley saved yours.

'Right.' Draco said, and his tone gave Hermione the impression that he was about to say something along the lines of, 'I'd rather have died.' but in a far more witty way. Fortunately either Draco resisted the urge or Hermione was completely wrong.

'So what exactly is going on?' Draco asked.

'When one person saves another's life, it can create a certain bond between them. Normally this is not a magical bond, but a bond of friendship or similar.' Hermione nodded, remembering how Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll in first year.

'However,' Dumbledore continued, 'when one witch or wizard saves another's life three times, an extremely rare effect occurs. It's hardly documented: obviously in the normal run of things opportunities to save someone's life are rare, and therefore not many instances of this particular effect are known. It's called the Pericuscia effect.'

'Is it dangerous?' Draco cut in on the headmaster's monologue.

'I highly doubt that it is. According to the documentation, all it means is that you will be able to tell when Miss. Granger is in danger, and possibly where she is as well.'

A silence settled over the three. Draco would know when she was in danger? Well that might be a good thing, especially since she never knew whether Lucius would take it into his head to attack her again.

On the other hand, it was strangely uncomfortable, like some breach of privacy. Having him know when she was in trouble was somehow unpleasant: Hermione put it down to the fact that humans took pain or being injured as a sign of weakness, and hated to show that they were weak. It shouldn't bother her, she knew, but she'd rather have someone she felt more comfortable with coming to her rescue.

'I do not think it is anything to worry about.' Dumbledore reassured them, standing up. 'However, I would like to know if anything unusual happens. But for now: breakfast is being served, and I should let Madam Pomfrey check you are both fine to go and eat.'

He left, passing through the small nurse's office at the far end of the room. They didn't have time to say anything before Madam Pomfrey was rushing over to check the reading from Hermione's thermometer.

'Thirty-seven point one degrees. Normal human body temperature.' reported the stick, and Madam Pomfrey smiled.

'Well, you're fine to go. The house elves have brought you both clean clothes from your rooms: I'll close the curtains so you can both get changed.'

Hermione glanced towards Draco. She only caught a glimpse of him before the curtain was drawn to a close: and that glimpse was happy and sad, pleased and worried, as if he was unable to make up his mind about what he had just heard.

Hermione sighed softly. Things had just become more complicated.

~*~

A/N: Once again, Latin seems to have slipped into the narrative. 'purgo' means 'I clean', and Pericuscia comes from the Latin words 'periculum' meaning danger and 'scire' to know.

Do any other fanfic writers tend to feel their characters are taking over the story? Because I increasingly get the feeling that they are. I mentioned that to my friend, who said, 'They don't exist. How can they take over the story?' Well technically they don't exist *sniff* but seriously, sometimes I wonder where these chapters appear from.

Reviews? Please?