CHAPTER 7

'So basically the Ministry knew nothing about Mulciber.' Harry said. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose with frustration. 'Where does that leave us?'

They were all sitting in the Common Room. It was past midnight, and all the Gryffindors had retired one by one, leaving the four of them alone. Harry was sitting on a soft pouffee, and absently chewing candy. Ron and Hermione were seated on the couch, and Ginny was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, with her legs crossed.

'It makes everything confused.' Hermione replied, looking thoughtfully at the glowing embers in the grate. 'That means that the people who came to The Three Broomsticks were not Ministry officials.'

'But then who would they be?' Ron asked, frowning. 'It was to the Ministry that Madam Rosmerta messaged, wasn't it? Or maybe-.' his eyes grew hopeful. 'Maybe it was intercepted.'

'It would be easy enough to intercept a floo message I suppose.' Ginny said, pensively. 'She couldn't have sent an owl. It would take days to reach the Ministry.'

'So you're saying someone intercepted her message, made sure it didn't reach the Ministry, and turned up instead.' Hermione said, nodding. 'I suppose so. But the question is- who?'

'Death Eaters.' Ron suggested. 'It might have been them?'

'Why would they want to kill one of their own?' Harry asked, scathingly.

'Maybe they got into a fight with him.' Ginny suggested. 'And he threatened to come tell Dumbledore. That would explain why he was at Hogsmeade.'

'That sounds possible.' Hermione said. She sighed. 'It's so confusing!'

'There's another element.' Ginny said, suddenly. 'I just realized.'

'What?' Ron asked.

'Malfoy! He was out, remember! That's how he broke his arm. What if he had gone to Hogsmeade?'

Hermione looked skeptical. 'You think Malfoy is involved in this somehow?"

'It could be.' Harry said, skeptically. 'I mean, it's a coincidence, isn't it, his sneaking out on that particular night.'

'Malfoy doesn't seem the type.' Hermione said, thoughtfully. 'But then you never know. Oh god, what are we going to do?'

'I think she should talk to Madam Rosmerta first.' Ginny said, slowly. 'We can go to Hogsmeade on Christmas, can't we? That's next Saturday.'

'The day after the ball.' Hermione added, yawning.

Ron looked confused. 'Ball? What ball?'

'Oh Ron.' Ginny sighed. 'Don't you know? It's a Christmas Eve Ball.'

'Do we have to ask anyone?' Harry asked, looking alarmed.

Ginny giggled. 'No.' she said. 'You just go and dance with whoever you like. Hermione and I are going to Hogsmeade the evening before to get out hair and make up done. We can take the carriage, to avoid the snow.'

'Of course.' Ron said, seemingly haven lost interest after finding out he didn't have to undergo the trauma of asking anyone to the ball with him. 'So on Christmas, we go to Hogsmeade. That's perfectly normal, loads of people do. And we go ask Madam Rosmerta about everything. But for now-.' he yawned. 'I need to go to bed. Good night, all.'

He and Harry got up and left. Ginny and Hermione remained, sitting quietly in the Common Room.

'What do you think of all of this?' Ginny asked, slowly, her eyes on the glowing embers in the grate.

Hermione shook her head. 'He's getting so much stronger. I have no idea what's going on. The Final Battle 's yet to come, and Harry has so much to do. I don't know how we're ever going to manage.'

Ginny smiled sadly. There was a pause.

'By the way.' Ginny said, suddenly. 'I found out about that Noite Dofogo thing.'

'What?' Hermione squeaked looking up. 'You mean- you mean it's a person?'

'Ginny shook her head. 'No.' she said. 'It's Portuguese. It literally translates to "Fire in the Night".'

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That night, Hermione slept in the Common Room with Ginny, instead of returning to her Head Room. The next morning, when she woke up, she was feeling groggy and tired. She showered and changed into her uniform quickly, and then headed to breakfast.

Harry and Ron were already at the table, looking sleepy and feverish at the same time. Ron was devouring steak and kidney with a kind of evil relish, whereas Harry was simply nibbling at his toast.

'Good morning.' Hermione said, sitting down and helping herself to some coffee. 'How're you feeling?'

Harry winced. 'Not so good.' he mumbled. 'Sleepy. And there's a Quidditch Match in the afternoon. I think I'm going to skive off morning classes.'

Hermione looked disapproving. She pursed her lips. 'I didn't know there was a Quiddtich Match today.'

Ron threw her A Look.

'Why do you think we've been practicing so hard?' he asked. 'It's Gryffindor versus Slytherin but I think we have a good chance of winning because Malfoy's in the hospital wing.'

'Oh yes.' Hermione said, absently. 'I suppose you'll bunk all your morning classes. Well, I have charms right now and I can't afford to do anything of the sort. I'll see the bunch of you later.'

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When Hermione walked into the Gryffindor Common Room after her morning classes, she found Harry, Ron, Ginny, Seamus, Dean and Neville all sitting on various armchairs and pouffees, talking and laughing genially amongst themselves.

'Hey guys.' she said, stepping in and rubbing her hands to ward of the cold. 'All set for the match?'

'Oh yeah.' Ron cackled. 'We're gonna pound those snakes for sure, this time. The flying conditions are perfect.'

He pointed out the window, where Hermione could see hot, buttery sunshine falling on a crisp silvery blanket of snow. She smiled at their obvious enthusiasm.

'I hope you do well.' she said. 'but the air's so stiff, I'm sure a gale's going to spring up very soon.'

Ron turned a furious face to her. 'Hermione. Do you have to keep making this discouraging statements?'

As they descended for lunch, however, Hermione's prediction came about. Serving themselves mashed potato and steak, the Gryffindors could here the wind picking up, and rain beating against the roof of the Great Hall. Hermione glanced at the Slytherins, and saw that they were exchanging worried glances. Draco Malfoy wasn't sitting in his usual place, so she assumed he was still in the Hospital Wing.

After lunch, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Dean and Seamus departed for the Changing Rooms. Neville and Hermione, after bundling up tightly in scarves and jackets, and carrying a large umbrella fought their way through a crowd of similarly attires students and got fairly decent seats among the bleachers. They were still remarkably early, so they began talking amongst themselves.

'The Ministry's got a lot of praise,' Neville was saying, 'About Mulciber's death. It's strange isn't it, the way that he was killed?'

Hell strange. Hermione thought to herself. Especially since the ministry had nothing whatsoever to do with it. But then of course, why own that up when they got all the credit?

She forced a smile. 'I suppose. But the good thing is that he's gone. Every dead or imprisoned Death Eater counts.'

Neville nodded. His face went a little pink and uncomfortable and he glanced around the check that no one was listening, leaning forward with a confidential air.

'Tell me,' he said, in a low voice. 'How is Harry?'

'What?' Hermione asked, puzzled by the question.

'Well, he's under tremendous pressure, isn't he?' Neville urged. 'V-Voldemort's just getting stronger, and a lot of people still believe in the Prophecy nonsense. And even without that, everyone turns to Harry for help. It must be awful for him. Is he making any plans or anything?"

Hermione considered it. 'I suppose not.' she said. 'We didn't really discuss this with him, though. Maybe- maybe we should.'

'I think so.' Neville said. 'It might help. He's probably feeling quite terrible right now.'

Looking at Neville, Hermione wondered why this had never occurred to her before. Neville saw her perplexed glance.

'I know just how he feels.' he said, with a weak smile. 'I've gone through enough.'

With that, he turned and focused determinedly on the field, his plump chin turned away from Hermione. She too looked at the field, but her mind was racing.

Neville has been through a lot. And Harry is probably feeling quite horrible. He has no one to turn to, except us and Dumbledore. I wonder if he's been preparing in secret, without telling us?

At that minute, she was shaken out of her revelry by a loud booming voice- that of Michael Corner, who was commenting.

'And the teams are out!' he called out, and looking down, Hermione saw that the Gryffindors, with Harry in the lead were marching down one end of the pitch, whereas the green clad Slytherins were coming from the other. Harry was looking tall and determined, his chin set and his messy hair flying about his face. The Slytherins all worse nasty expressions. Blaise Zabini, the new Captain reached forward to shake Harry's hand. Even from a distance, Hermione could see the disgusted look on his arrogant, handsome face, as his slim, elegant hand grasped Harry's rough, weatherworn one.

The rain was pelting down hard, and the wind was biting into the players clothes. She watched them mount they're brooms, and Harry screw up his eyes, trying to see through the pouring rain.

'And they're off!' Michael Corner was saying, his voice ringing with excitement. 'The Quaffle's currently under possession of Ginny Weasley, what an amazing Chaser that girl is! She's gliding between the Slytherins and- oops, Quaffle's been stolen by Howard, of Slytherin, who's moving towards the post- brilliant save by Weasley- Ron Weasley that is, and Demelza has the Quaffle. She's moving- moving, and- SCORE!'

There was a loud cheer from the Gryffindor bleachers, accompanied by boos from the Slytherins. Hermione felt her mind turn off the to the match, and she watched Harry moving about instead. His face was set and his eyes were keenly raking the sky, looking for that little dart of gold that would be the snitch. It would be difficult, though, in this rain. A fork of lightening split the sky above, and sound seemed to be suspended for a second or so after which a boom of thunder sounded all around. Hermione saw Harry wince and continue to search desperately for the Snitch. At the other end of the pitch, she could see Judas Beefers, the Slytherin substitute seeker, flying in lazy circles.

The rain was beginning to pour down harder now. The wind picked up, and began to whistle shrilly as it blew between the bleachers. Hermione shuddered and pulled her coat tighter around herself. Beside her, Neville's teeth were chattering.

'It's c-cold,' he spluttered. 'D-do you th-think they'll b-be ok-okay?'

Hermione felt a pang of worry.

'They'll be fine,' she said, assuringly. 'They're experienced.'

She glanced back at the pitch, her eyes scanning it for Harry and Ron. Ron was wavering near the hoops- his broom was being tossed a bit in the wind. Harry had circled much, much higher, but was under the cloud cover, and had to bear the brunt of the cold, stinging water. He was inscribing tight circles around the pitch, keeping one eye on Beefers, who was lower to the ground. Ginny she found darting in between other chasers, her lithe form balancing easily on the broom- but the strain of the wind was getting to her, Hermione noticed. More than once she carelessly dropped the Quaffle. Michael Corner was still commenting, but his voice was fainter, and over sheathed by the lashing of the rain and the shrillness of the wind.

'The Quaffle's with- with Demelza again.' he was saying. 'She's flying towards the hoops- the winds getting to her, her brooms shaking- and- and SCORE. It's 150-120, Gryffindor. Howard has the Quaffle again, but- Wait! Looks like Beefers has seen something!'

Both Neville and Hermione immediately focused on Beefers. He was flying straight towards something, leaning forward on his broom. Looking up, Hermione saw that Harry had just noticed. He had immediately pulled in for a steep dive.

'Oh god,' Hermione whispered. 'I hope he makes it!'

'Of course he will!'

'Neville, look at the angle of his descent!'

It was indeed a scary one. Harry was almost vertical as he rocketed towards the ground. He was catching up with Beefers now- he was at his ankles…he was passing his shoulders, and-

WHAM.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, a greenish blur appeared, and slammed into Harry. He uttered a cry that was broken midway, and toppled off his broom. He clutched desperately for the handle as it flew above him, but for no avail- he was plummeting towards the Earth.

Ginny and Ron immediately left their posts and streaked towards him, but it was too late- Harry fell straight to the ground, landing in a puddle that send a glittering, polished curve of water into the air. He lay motionless.

Hermione and Neville, along with almost all the Gryffindors, were on their feet almost immediately, rushing towards the pitch. The entire team had landed, and were trying to pick him up. They heard him cry out in pain.

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Madam Pomfrey came out of the cubicle, swishing the white curtains behind her. Her plump frame was enveloped in white robes and a pink and white striped apron.

'How is he?' Ginny almost screamed, jumping up.

'What happened to him?' Ron choked. He had swallowed a whole lot of rainwater, and his throat was still waterlogged.

'Is he going to be all right?' Hermione asked, anxiously.

Madam Pomfrey held a fat finger to her lips.

'Sh,' she said, 'He had broken a few bones, and had some internal injuries plus some superficial ones. The bruises etcetera I took care of, but he needs to spend three or four nights in the hospital wing. I'm going to have to ask two of you to leave. Only one can stay here.'

'I will,' Ron, Hermione and Ginny said, immediately.

Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow.

'Oh h-hell.' Ron said, suddenly, his throat spasming. 'I just remembered. I have that bloody essay to complete for Flitwick. Doesn't he get I don't give Charms a flying fu-u- fudge?' he finished quickly, seeing the look on Madam Pomfrey's face.

Ginny groaned. 'Oh my god, I have work too.' she said, wincing. 'I suppose you'll have to stay, Mione.'

'I'll be fine.' Hermione said. 'Don't worry. You two go along.'

'You sure you'll be okay?' Ron asked.

'I'll be fine Ron. Unlike both of you, I've actually finished my homework, you know.'

'Yes, yes, of course.' Ron said, hastily, trying to ward off a 'You-and-you-homework-need-drastic-improvement' lecture. 'Come on Gin. Hermione, we'll come and check up later, okay?' he kissed her cheek. 'See ya.'

'Bye, Hermione.' Ginny said.

The two of them left, and Madam Pomfrey re-entered the room.

'Oh, hello dear.' she said, absently. 'You got voted to stay back, I see. Well, I must scurry, I have plenty of things to do. Just come in, and I'll tell you what to do in case he waked up.'

She pulled her into the cubicle. Harry was lying on the bed, under a sheet. He was sleeping peacefully. Madam Pomfrey pointed to an array of glass phials on the bedstead.

'If he wakes up,' she said, 'And he's in pain, give him that light pink, frothy one. If he's complaining of bad dreams give him the green one, but don't wake him up just to give it. If his head's paining, you better force that orange one down his throat, I don't care of it burns him, it's good. You'll stay here, won't you? There are a few books in that little shelf there, to keep you occupied. Now, I'm running down to Mungo's, I have some work to take care of. The other patients are due to wake up tomorrow morning- as long as they've taken their medicine properly. Goodbye, dearie.'

She bustled out of the cubicle. As the curtains swished back and forth, Hermione caught a glimpse of her in a pink lace cap, powdering her nose in front of the far mirror.

Hermione sighed, and leaned back. She slid her gaze over to Harry. His face looked so calm, and peaceful. She felt a sudden flash of anger towards Zabini, who had purposely collided into him.

She walked over to the shelf, and rummaged among the books there. Finding a Wodehouse which she particularly fond of, she slid back into her seat, and began reading it, glancing every now and then at Harry's serene face.

The clock in the Wing ticked loudly, and the sound embedded itself into her mind. Subconsciously, she marked in the ticks in her mind.

Tick….tick….tick….tick….tick….

She turned a page, and heard it rustle loudly in the silent room. She glanced up at Harry. he had flung a hand over his head, and his hair was even more rumpled than usual, standing out dark against the pale whiteness of the Hospital Wing sheets.

Tick…tick…tick….tick…tick…

Hermione's eyes began to droop, as she turned yet another page. She was so tired, so sleepy. The words began to blur in front of her, swimming together and turning into a black jumble of letters. She felt her head nod, and finally slump onto her lap, rendering deep discomfort to her neck, which was oddly twisted. Her eyes closed softly, and she welcomed the darkness, wrapping her arms around her messy curls as if to lull her painful head to sleep slowly. All the while, the clock ticked in her mind.

Tick…tick….tick…tick…tick…

When Hermione woke, the Hospital Wing was darker, and the lanterns were lit. She straightened up and winced as her neck protested. She gently flattened her palms against it, trying to massage it into a more comfortable state. The book on her fell to the floor, and she stooped to pick it up, noticing with a pang that the pages were crumpled. Immediately abandoning her neck she smoothened out the pages to the best of her ability, and then replacing the book glanced at Harry. He was on his tummy now, and still fast asleep. She wondered idly what it had been that had woken her.

A noise, from one of the other cubicles.

Immediately, she straightened up. Madam Pomfrey's words came back to her.

'The other patients are due to wake up tomorrow- as long as they've taken their medicine properly.'

Who was it,' she mused, who had not taken his medicine properly. She quickly got up, and drew back the curtains to Harry's cubicle.

Nothing.

Exiting the cubicle, she walked down the length of the Hospital Wing, taking care to walk softly. As she passed the last cubicle, she heard movements from inside. Stiffening, she gripped the curtain, and drew it back.

The problem was, once she did, she saw a very startled and a very naked Malfoy staring back at her.

AN- So that's the end of another chapter, and I'm so sorry I didn't update earlier, I've been a lazy pig, I know …and for those of you who want to know exactly what a PG Wodehouse was doing in the Hospital Wing when it is so clearly a Muggle book, well wizards do read Muggle books every now and then.

Thanks to all those of you who reviewed. I promise the next chapter will come up faster.