Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all Harry Potter registered trademarks belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not claim any rights to that which is protected by such laws. The story line, however, is mine.

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the wing, not a patient was stirring, but visitors were another thing…

It was quite a sight. Maybe it would look comical if you didn't know what had happened. A crowd of five and a nurse seemed to swarm around a bed in the hospital wing like a group of hornets all trying to sting the same person. The deep markings of shock were carved into the faces of everyone gathered, showing how serious this was. Harry and Ron had been called back from the Order's headquarters by Dumbledore shortly after he had found out what had happened. Ginny was in tears, wondering what had happened. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were standing off to the side, fear clutching their hearts, their minds controlled by an unwelcome thought. Everyone in that room entertained the thought, although no one mentioned it. Would Hermione wake up?

"It is getting late and I've still plenty to do, so I'll ask you to leave now and I will call you immediately if anything develops." Madam Pomfrey sounded more worried than any of them could remember, so they left silently. The Grangers left to a room off the Wing they'd been shown to by Dumbledore. Left to do her job, Madam Pomfrey continued to do warming charms, and blood replenishing charms. Because Hermione's brain had slowed to a near stop, she'd spent at lease five minutes without oxygen. The cuts and cold were simple enough to heal, but the breathing was more difficult.

Despite having performed the most advanced healing spells, and applying the most complex potions, Hermione still needed a spell in place that breathed for her. What confused the nurse most, however was that no matter what she attempted to do, the scars and cuts on the girl's arm would not vanish. Sighing, she placed a charm over Hermione to alert her if her condition changed, and went to her office to rest. She'd done all she could.

Just after the clock struck 11 that night, the door to the infirmary creaked open. The shadow in the doorway paused as if making sure no one would come, before slipping unnoticed into the room. Walking quickly but silently, the figure moved to stand at the end of the girl's bed. From the silver moonlight streaming in the window, he could see her perfectly.

She was better from when she'd first arrived, but she looked so fragile. He laughed internally as he imagined what she'd do if she knew she'd been called fragile. The slight smile vanished quickly though, as his eyes returned to her. Her skin was a translucent, milky white that lacked its normal rosy tinge. She'd always been thin, but now she looked like a mere shadow of her former self.

"Please wake up." He whispered. As he stood to leave, a single tear fell from his eye. He turned and walked out. If he'd looked back, he would have been surprised. The hand on which the tear had fallen slowly unclenched and lay flat against the mattress. Silently, the door closed, and the light from the hall vanished.

"I wish I knew what happened to her. Why wasn't someone there to protect her?" Hermione's mother thought aloud, as silent tears fell from her eyes.

"The nurse said something about a possible attack by some sort of creature. " Her father seemed emotionless, but his blank expression was a mask, trying to remain strong to help his wife through.

"But she was always so intelligent. Why would she have gone there so late at night?" Silence greeted her question, as it had many others. No one knew what had happened. The depth of the cut on her arm had suggested an attack. Holding back a sob, she asked almost helplessly, "What should we do?"

"Tomorrow, we can ask the headmaster to make an announcement to the students asking anyone with information to come forward." His tone echoed the hopelessness he viewed the situation with.

Long after one had gone to bed, the other moved to sit by the window. 'Oh, Hermione, how could this happen? We love you so much. You can't leave us. You just cant!' Tears left salty trails as they fell down their face. The tears continued to fall, as the other climbed into bed, and fell into a fitful sleep. It seemed that few slept uninterrupted.

He was sleeping. Or at least he was trying to. Seeing her like that had shocked him. She was Hermione Granger, the noble, book smart, Gryffindor. Things like that didn't happen to her. They happened to him. It seemed that anyone he cared about was killed, or hurt. He wondered if this had been the work of him, that it was meant to torture his emotions. He'd tried so hard to distance himself from her. I thought no one would notice. Maybe I went too far. Maybe it wasn't far enough. He really did like her. That was why he'd done what he thought was necessary. Apparently it hadn't been enough.

No one told him, but he understood he'd been the cause of the deaths of many that he'd known. Everything was for her. It always had been. If only she'd wake up.

'Let me out!' 'Hermione screamed. She continued to plead for release, but it never came. No one could hear her screams. It'd been like this since she'd woken up, she realized. Something warm and comforting had sunk onto her and it had stirred her mind. She couldn't see, and apparently, she couldn't talk either. On top of all that, something was forcing her lungs to expand and contract. It felt as though she'd been put in a full body-bind curse, which was made even worse when she found she had no control of her limbs at all. She couldn't feel her hands on the fabric of the bed. Now that she thought about it, she didn't feel like she was in her body at all. It was awfully similar, she thought, to having your soul trapped in a glass cage within your own body. Sighing internally, she gave up trying to move and allowed the nothingness to consume her as she fell into a trapped sort of restless sleep.

She was so detached, that she didn't hear the strange humming sound that was now being emitted from a red orb of light floating above her head.

Madam Pomfrey was awakened from a restless sleep by a strange wailing hum. Realizing it was the spell she'd set over Hermione, she ran out to silence the charm, and run more diagnostic tests to see what'd happened to change the poor girl's condition. She only hoped it hadn't gotten worse.

The spells had been cast quickly, and Madam Pomfrey read the results worriedly. When she finally released the breath she'd been holding, it was due to immense relief. It seemed Miss Granger had regained consciousness. Okay, maybe not quite consciousness, but she was now thinking, and able to formulate ideas. Now, normally when a person regained sub-consciousness, they regained the ability to control basic functions such as breathing and keeping one's heart beating. Using this logic, she removed the spell that had been breathing for Hermione.

To her horror, the girl's chest fell, and did not rise. After waiting the procedural few seconds to see if she would begin breathing on her own, she quickly put the spell back in place. 'That is rather unique,' the healer thought, 'never, in all my years of doing this, have I seen anything like it. Its almost like she's trapped inside her own body….' Sighing, she went to tell Albus the news. 'This is going to be a long night. Oh wait… Make that morning.'

A/N: Another chapter has been viciously slaughtered by me, myself, and I. If you are so inclined, try guessing at who was visiting Hermione (in order). Correct guesses get a virtual cookie. Feel free to drop a review telling me to update, that you liked it, or that you'd rather I stopped torturing you with awful FanFiction. And in the words of an amusing FanFiction author (alias "Sirius's Daughter") "Flames will be used to make toast."