Anam Cara

Surfacing

When she awoke, Hermione felt deliciously warm, both inside and outside. Her usually disturbed sleep had been dreamless and restful. The usual train of thought that swamped her mind wasn't present; it felt clear and easy.

Stretching, Hermione reluctantly pulled herself up against the pillows and rubbed her eyes, yawning as she did so. As soon as her lids opened, she realised where she was with a start. The immaculately white, fresh sheets around her and in every bed opposite told her one thing: the Hogwarts hospital wing. She'd certainly spent enough time in here during her years as a student. From cat transformations, enlarged front teeth and a broken leg from stupidly agreeing to fly across the grounds on Ron's broomstick in bad weather conditions, she knew the infirmary like the back of her own hand.

It was funny, she thought, how most students disliked their trips here, no matter how long or short, and she had always felt calm and at peace. It actually felt something like home at times. She surmised that it must be something to do with her actual home-her parents being dentists, had a workplace that smell a lot like this. Not unpleasant, just clean and different. For many it triggered nerves and even anxiety but she relaxed- it made her feel safe.

Hermione slid sideways, allowing her legs to glide out from underneath the warm sheets and touch the cold, stone floor beneath. She shivered, noting that she was now dressed in a less than thick, pale blue nightgown. Beside the bed stood a small cabinet, one she had kept some of her possessions in for a while during her fifth year after that awful debacle at the Ministry of Magic. Atop of it stood a bottle half filled with Dreamless Sleep Potion. Under closer scrutiny, she could see that the label had been written out in careful, precise handwriting by Professor Snape, recognisable from when she had had to select ingredients from his cupboards in her Potions classes.

 Slowly, Hermione pulled herself up. The dizzy feeling she'd had previously seemed more of a faint, irritating buzzing at the back of her head, nothing more. Her outer robes had been placed carefully at the foot of the bed and as she picked them up, she noticed they felt softer and looked cleaner. She slipped them around her shoulders, regaining some of the warmth she'd lost before.

She walked over to the window. Hermione had always liked this view. From here, you could see the lake, which was now covered in a thin layer of ice. She wondered vaguely were the giant squid was these days but let the thought pass; it wasn't important now. The grass was wearing a white mantle of snow and the tall leafy trees she, Ron and Harry had often sheltered beneath during balmy summer days, eager for some shade, now looked grey and cold during these winter months.

Nonetheless, Hogwarts certainly was beautiful during winter. In her opinion, a castle always looked more traditional and fitting when it's high roof and stately turrets had a blanket of white, with drifting flakes floating dreamily past the windows, in a never-ending spiral to the ground.

Caught in the moment, Hermione gazed out for a few minutes more, before returning to her usual state of mind. How could everything about Hogwarts seem so normal, so peaceful when her life never seemed to have settled down since she's began there. That was the magic of the place, she supposed, nothing was ever quite normal under the surface…

She turned from the window. Her feet were getting quite icy now and she couldn't walk any longer on this cold stone without catching her death. Her eyes fell upon her boots that had been placed just under the bed. She quickly stooped to pick them up, and pulled them on quickly, relishing in their fur-lined warmth. They were old, but they were comfortable and reliable. Hermione had come to rely on them.

Quietly, Hermione padded out of the hospital wing, feeling quite surprised at Madam Pomfrey's absence, even though it was Christmas and she was probably enjoying herself elsewhere. The strict matron usually spent all her time fussing after sick students and not letting them out of her sight. She had to know Hermione was there, didn't she? How else would she have been placed there otherwise? Pomfrey's authority was something no other member of staff dared to question and they abided by it. No doubt she would have been alerted to Hermione's presence and put her to bed.

Taking a last look behind her, Hermione closed the heavy door as softly as she could and set off down the long corridor, not entirely sure where she intended to go but that she would get there eventually.

For all her so-called cautiousness, it was a pity Hermione didn't notice a pair of eyes watching from the hedge close by the Snape family winter manor on Christmas Eve, where somebody crouched in the crackling, frozen mud. Then again, Slytherins were renown for their stealth and cunningness, if not anything else. And Draco Malfoy was nothing if not a Slytherin at heart, and good at it.

His knees were cramped up, but he didn't move an inch. It was doubtless that it would alarm her and cause her to run.

The familiar bitter taste filled Draco's mouth. Hatred. It made him want to spring up and yell Unforgivables until his throat was hoarse. But he wouldn't do that. No. He'd learnt his lesson long ago. Never again would he strike like that. Even if he was sure he was aiming at a guilty one that deserved it. What had happened last time stood out far too clearly for him to bear. She was truly guilty though. He knew it.

He watched through tightly narrowed eyes as she half stumbled through the snow, obviously fatigued and exhausted, and paused at the menacing gates. After a few moments of thought, she pushed them open, her shoulders tensing slightly as they screeched with decades of no oiling.

She slowly made her way up the winding drive, her paces quickening as she got closer to the house. Draco felt his mouth purse up in anger as she peered through one of the windows for a minute, and then went back to the door. Before she took out her wand, he saw her glance at the plaque above it.

That's right. Get a good look at it. Do you know what it means? Of course you do. So why is it your intelligence fails when you enter such a house? They do not welcome Mudbloods there, Granger.

It appeared that she did not heed his wordless warning, however, as she had soon obviously cast an unlocking charm and the door swung open.

He was not the only one to be shocked at who was waiting to answer it. Draco craned his head though the prickling leaves to get a closer look. His face became grim, but set firmer still

.

It would have been so much easier if you were not present, Uncle Severus, much easier indeed.

But Draco knew how to do it the hard way too, and with only a few seconds thought, he Disapparated from the scene, simply leaving two deep footprints behind him in the mud underneath the hedge.

A/N: Thank you all for your lovely reviews. Animé? Nope, I'm not a big fan- although I know the name Sakura is used in that genre quite often. I was thinking about her character whilst surfing, and I looked up some names in a foreign baby name online site. The meaning of Sakura is relevant to that story, when I get around to writing it, of course.

RebelRikki-  Of course it was convenient…hey, you can't blame the author for using what works…* winks *