Chapter Two

"Okay team, it's getting late so I want you all to get a good night's sleep. I don't want to see any of you with droopy eyelids before or during the match. I know you know how important it is that we win and I know I don't have to remind you. Now get your butts inside so you don't all get pneumonia," Harry barked at his team. The match was only days away and he was already coming down with something like looked a lot like a cold. He sniffed and breathed a cool puff of air out as he stepped into the inviting warmth of the changerooms.

The wind had been bitingly cold and was getting stronger as the practise had progressed. If it was not for the danger involved in continuing to train during a snowstorm, Harry would've kept the team going for at least another half hour or so. However, it seemed evident that even if they had stayed longer, it would not have helped as every member—even Harry—was frozen like ice statues stuck to flying broomsticks. His arms felt barely able to reach out far enough to get a good grip on his broom, let alone catch a Snitch buzzing around at blinding speeds. No, Harry decided, it wouldn't have been prudent and would've certainly been cruel to keep them out when they would be better off inside, snug, warm and safe. Just as he hoped Hermione was now. After all, her detention couldn't have lasted as long as Quidditch practise had been.

Not to mention that his team would hate him for it. Grumpy players did not read good players in Harry's thesaurus.

He finished changing and had packed all his things away and had his broom firmly grasped in his slightly-less-frozen hands. Waving a quick goodbye to Ron and his fellow team mates, he set off toward Gryffindor Tower to warm up in front of the fire and get a move on his Potions essay. It never seemed to stop amazing him how bad a choice deciding to be an Auror seemed to be right now. However, if he wanted to do it (and Professor McGonagall had expressed many times that she believed he had the ability to reach such a goal), he'd have to face up to Snape's ways and finally take a firm grip on his Potions studies. It was a requirement. But it didn't mean it didn't still suck.

He looked around the nearly-deserted common room and found no trace of Hermione. Harry shrugged and went up to the dormitories to drop off his things. He picked up a small stack of research materials, a few rolls of parchment, a bottle of ink and his eagle-feather quill. She must be in the library again, he thought with a disappointed sigh. He wouldn't be able to ask her all about her own essay after all. How was he, Harry Potter, going to finish a Potions essay on Distortion Brews without a single shred of help from the penultimate *brain* of the whole of the sixth-year? There was no way he was going to even make a passing grade for it without her help...

Just as he touched quill to parchment, intending to finish a paragraph he had started but never finished because of yet another one of Ron's dilemmas, Ron and Ginny came tumbling through the portrait hole laughing until they were having difficulty controlling their breathing.

"Oh...Ginny, that look...priceless. I wish...Colin...had been...there. Preferably...with a camera...of course," Ron said between gasps pained laughter. He calmed down after taking a few deep breaths. "I can see it right now. Nimbus Two-Thousand-and-One, 2500 galleons. Quidditch robes, 30 galleons. Being caught with your pants down? Priceless. Oh, I love Muggle television. Especially the ads."

"Oh, Harry, you have to hear this one. Trevor got free again and found his way into Malfoy's pants. Neville was having difficulty deciding whether to laugh or be scared. Crabbe and Goyle ended up having to drop Malfoy's daks to get Trevor out," Ginny said as she burst into another bout of uncontrollable laughter. "It was hilarious. You missed the best thing to happen since Umbridge left."

Although Harry was still worried about his essay (and Hermione's apparent absence), he couldn't help but laugh. He could picture it in his mind and could see the expression on Malfoy's face as if he'd witnessed it himself. It nearly beat the time Moody, who was actually Mr Crouch Jr., had turned Malfoy into a ferret in fourth year. They hadn't dared to laugh in front of McGonagall, of course. Then again, what could possibly beat that? Hey, even Hermione laughed about it even though it was plainly in violation of some sort of Hogwarts rule...somewhere.

"Ah, ooh, oww..." Ron complained as his laughter finally died down. "I never knew laughing could hurt so much. I think I got a worse stitch just then than from climbing Stoatshead Hill to take that Portkey to the World Cup last, last year. And, remember? Hermione got it even worse than me that time. Now I can pity the both of us. Speaking of, where is she?"

Harry shrugged and sat back down to continue his homework. Ron and Ginny disappeared up to the dormitories and the sounds of loud laughter drifted down not long after. The sounds of the rest of the team returning came and went and they, too, learnt and laughed over Malfoy's incident with Trevor the toad.

Several inches of parchment later, Harry glanced at the old grandfather clock which stood on the other side of the common room. It was getting late and it had never been a habit of Hermione's to ever stay at the library so late (not that Madam Pince wouldn't ask her to leave anyway). Dropping his things onto his armchair, he got up and put on a warm cloak. He also fetched his Invisibility Cloak and momentarily wished he could Apparate instead.

Marauder's Map in hand, he set off toward the nearest flight of stairs. Not far from the Entrance Hall was a dot labelled 'Hermione Granger'. That's strange, Harry thought. Her dot wasn't showing any signs of movement at all.

He ran as quietly as he could so as to not attract anyone's attention, particularly from Peeves, Filch and Snape. Mrs Norris appeared to be up at the Astronomy Tower—far away from where he was, thankfully.

As he descended down the last flight of stairs and opened the front door to the castle, a gust of wind chilled his exposed neck through his heavy cloak and his concern mounted for Hermione's wellbeing. The weather outside had grown choppier than when he had dismissed the team from practise and the temperature had certainly dropped at least a few degrees.

Surely enough, when he stepped outside and his visibility had improved, he saw a cloak-covered figure lying in the snow. It was a Hermione-shaped figure. Beside her was a shovel and beside that was a wooden bucket which had tipped over and was beginning to roll in the direction the wind was blowing. On her other side was Crookshanks, who was pressed up against Hermione's neck and occasionally licked her cheek. It looked to Harry as if Crookshanks was trying to warm his owner up.

Harry wasted no time in settling by her side and reaching into his pocket for his wand. He threw off his Invisibility Cloak and left it to one side, forgetting about it completely in his panicked state.

He lifted a hand to her cheek. She felt cold—freezing, even. Whatever state she was in, it was no state to be stuck out in the middle of such a storm. Harry prayed she would make it through—either way, he still wouldn't be able to benefit from her wealth of knowledge for the Potions essay. Not that that was as important as Hermione's health, of course...

"Tepidius!" he shouted into the wind and pointing it at Hermione. She glowed slightly pink and settled to her normal colour. It was a reversal spell intended to be used for those who had been hit by the Petrificus Totalus hex. 'It is also useful for warming up living things and is very different from the Caleode Exigoro heating spell, which, if used on living things can cause them to burst into flames. ('Urgh, Hermione, please, you didn't have to tell us that.') Yes, I know, Ron. A very undesirable effect, so don't you dare forget,' Hermione had said while in the midst of studying for their O.W.L.s earlier in the year.

Everything she had said still resounded in his mind—her voice had that kind consequence. Kind of like Professor McGonagall's chastising, really. (This, she would probably take as compliment and would very likely be followed by a long minute-and-a-half of gushing about what a good teacher Professor McGonagall was and how much she'd learnt from her.)

The wind beat angrily at their faces and he was amazed at his own stupidity (or maybe it was forgetfulness) for not having thought to have put on a scarf or even a pair of gloves. No matter now though. The more important thing was to get them all out of the snow at this point.

Harry draped one of her arms around his shoulder and threw one of his own arms under her knees. His remaining arm reached under her back and supported the upper part of her body. She still looked to be unconscious, but Harry could feel that she was now warmer than she was before.

He carried her inside with Crookshanks following not far behind dragging the Invisibility Cloak in his mouth. With Hermione in his arms, he began to climb the stairs without a single thought of being caught in the corridors this late at night on his mind.

The Hospital Wing had never seemed so far away.