Hermione's face was being frantically fanned, and there were various cold compresses being applied.
What's wrong? Why is she bleeding all over the place? How long was she out like that for?, several loud whispers were wafting above her head. Her eyelids felt too swollen to open, so Hermione was forced to be content with listening.
She could tell she was not in her bed, and the faint, but tenacious odor of medicinal plants, she instantly deduced she was in the hospital wing. There was a cotton ball sensation in her mouth, and none of her joints felt as if they would cooperate if she attempted movement.
What's happened? Was she poisoned?, Ron's strangled terror was clearly evident. Hermione almost smiled at the sound of his voice. There was a scuffle at the bedside.
Weasely, I must please request that you refrain from mauling her, Madam Pomfrey's voice echoed above her hair. Hermione tried to swallow, but found that her tongue had adhered itself to the roof of her mouth. She panicked, choking and rasping.
She was pulled up by either arm, her head sinking towards her chest, though Hermione could have sworn she had willed it to stay upright. A great whallop was delivered to her back, and her airways opened in surprise. Someone was holding her hair, and a cold china bowl was placed between her legs. Madam Pomfrey leaned Hermione's head closer towards the lip, and she slapped her repeatedly. Hermione tried to groan in protest, but she could only cough.
Girl, if you can hear me, try to force up anything, Madam Pomfrey's voice was somewhere near her left ear, and Hermione had heard a distinct, pronounced panic. She kept coughing, her lungs wheezing and deflating. Hermione vomited violently once, and then collapsed backwards, a beady sweat had collected on her face.
Good, good, Madam Pomfrey was now wiping her mouth, and legs, like a child. Hermione was left suprisingly weak by this exercise.
Isn't there stuff you can give to induce vomiting?, Ron sounded disgusted and rather appalled,instead of hitting her like that?.
Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue, Look, Weasley, if I don't know what's already in her, I can't give her an anecdote. You don't just go around dispensing potions, if she were to react badly, we'd be in an even worse mess than now.
Hermione's mental eyebrows knitted. Why was this a mess? Why could no one decipher what was wrong with her? Her stomach convulsed again, and Madam Pomfrey's inescapable vision was ready.
Oh, Miss Granger, what on earth did they do to you?, she said in a pained voice, as she hoisted Hermione up again, and placed the ever ready china bowl towards her face again.
, Hermione mumbled. Her tongue still wasn't working properly, and there was still a distressing lack of saliva. Madam Pomfrey patted her head triumphantly, and Ron still lingered by bedside.
My dear, if you can hear me, try and move your head, the healer instructed gently.
, she moaned weakly. Hermione still couldn't open her eyes. She was hastily laid flat again.
I still don't understand where all this bleeding is from, Madam Pomfrey said. Hermione could feel a warm trickle by her arm and her eyebrow.
I think she must have fallen onto a tea cup, when she went out like that. There was all this shattered china around her chair and stuff, Ron offered hopefully.
Well that is good news. If this were some kind of potion to make her bleed like that, we'd be finished. This should be easy to fix, Madam Pomfrey's voice once again gained that confident, superior tone which sounded like everything would be amicably solved, but whatever she ingested is beyond me. Weasley, go and fetch Professor Snape.
The feeling that everything was going to be all right sank Hermione's heart once again. Her mother had always told her that bad luck comes in threes, and if this meant coming face to face with Snape three times in a day, well, then surely she was right.
Snape, Madam Pomfrey?, Ron's voice quaked a bit, but you know he hates us, right?.
Professor Snape, boy, and don't be ridiculous, she snapped, do you want to help your friend or not?.
Hermione heard Ron's response in his footsteps that flew down the flagstones.
You three are always in my ward. Do you put yourselves in rotation?, Madam Pomfrey was above Hermione's head again, reaching for something out of the cupboard. Hermione's eyes rolled into her head as she fell into a waking slumber again.
Hermione, Hermione, come on, Snape's here....you've got to tell him what you drank, Ron was panicky again, rattling her arm. Hermione's slackened muscles in her neck caused her head to rock back and forth.
There's no need to inflict further damage, Weasley, Snape's quiet voice drifted by her. She felt Ron's hands reluctantly leave her own. There was heavy breathing, and a sandalwood scent by her hair. She felt someone's hands open her eyelids, and a light flash briefly into both.
You say, Poppy, that two students brought her in here, in this state, after finding her in the common room?, she heard his footsteps turn and face the healer, and you are certain it was something in her drink?.
Well, the boy here says that when she fell, she landed on a teacup she was drinking out of. That explains the blood, but as for what she drank.....that' why you are here, the woman finished hesitatingly.
Because her eyes are dilated, and her breath suggests essence of mugwort, I think that someone concocted an idiotic potion that limited the victim's movement, but not their senses. Only her eyelids seem to be not working, but from rapid movement of her eyes beneath, I conclude she's been following everything we've been saying, Snape finished haughtily, and she could just imagine his gloating expression, with his arms across his chest.
She did try and speak earlier, but it appeared as if her tongue could not work properly. And before that, she had a brief coughing spell and vomited, Madam Pomfrey recounted this a calm, but expectant air.
So you are aware of her half conscious state?, Snape sounded mildly put out, Weasley, was your head together enough to bring the fragmented cup?. There was a snarl at the end of his question.
Silently, broken glass was exchanged. Because I can only guess what was in her drink, I will have to examine this (a small shake rattled the pieces), but the only remedy is to let her sleep it off, make sure a fever does not ensue, Snape said, his voice rather heavy. He sounded regretful.
Thank you, Professor, Madam Pomfrey said automatically, but with some relief. Hermione heard Ron's dejected footsteps exit, and the healer move towards the front of the ward. Only Snape remained.
Listen, Granger, I know you can hear me, and I know perfectly well who put that tea in the common room. If you can open your eyes, do it, his voice was much closer to her this time, and the current of his breath stirred her hair.
She struggled for a few seconds, feeling unbelievably stupid and belittled under Snape's unrepentant stare. Her eyes could open only halfway, but everything came into syrupy, gradual focus.
Snape dangled something in front of her face. She looked at it for a few seconds, and uttered a moan of despair and disgust.
A piece of cloth that appeared as if it had been abruptly torn from the owner's clothing. It was offensively pink, and without a doubt, Umbridge's.
A/N: nepotism- act of inheritance from father to son.
