Pain… all she could feel was pain. It tore through her body and lit her veins on fire. Her throat was sore, she heard screaming. Then she put the pieces together. She was screaming. She felt a glass being forced into her mouth and felt ice flowing down her throat, soothing it. The pain floated away. She was asleep again.

She heard noises. Scuffling, voices.

"Do you think she'll be ok?"

"Is she in pain?"

"When do you think she'll wake up?"

"At least the screaming has stopped…"

Constant vigilance … the words floated into her mind and she tried to grab them. They floated away. Should she be afraid? Why would she be afraid? Where was she? She thought a little harder. Who was she? She cracked her eye lids, instinctively needing to see where she was before her … captors knew she was awake.

"I think I saw her eyes open!"

"Move back! Give her room to breathe everyone!" That voice was bossy. She opened her eyes, taking in the people surrounding the bed that she was lying in.

"Hermione! We're so glad you're awake!" There was a boy with hair that looked as if it were on fire. He sat in a chair at her right, and was grinning broadly. Hermione, he'd said. What a strange name. Was it hers? To her left there was a black-haired boy, he had round glasses and a scar. He looked tired, like he needed this bed more than she did. When he caught her eye, the corners of his mouth tilted up, but his eyes remained glassy.

"Awake," she whispered. "I'm awake." She looked around. The colors were so different than the blackness. Her eyes watered from the light, she blinked them away. There were so many people, too many people, all looking at her. She sat up and curled into herself, feeling trapped, clutching the sheets so hard that it hurt. The pain grounded her.

"Hermione?" It was the fire haired boy again. Looking around, many of the people here had fire hair. Did she? She touched her head, and was met with a tangled, bushy mane. She trailed her fingers through the knots, it was brown. They all were staring. Could she escape? No, no escape. There were too many.

"Hermione?" It was whispered this time. "You're safe. Do you know that? You're safe now." The fire boy was worried now, no more smiling.

Safe, safe, safe. Safe was good.

"Who…where…?" Who am I? Who are you? Where am I? Too many people.

"Hermione, do you know who we are?" It was the dark-haired boy this time. He looked even more tired. She looked around. All the faces were worried now, no more smiles. She had taken their smiles.

"Too many," She whispered. "Too many, too many." She hugged her knees.

"All right you lot, let's give her space. I'm sure there's food to be had. Let's get her some. Be quick about it!" It was the bossy voice. It belonged to a round woman with fire hair, lots of fire hair. Mother… but not her mother. Did she have a mother? The group ambled out giant double doors at the end of many beds. Their mother. The scared boy and the fire boy remained. They looked sad. She didn't like it. She pulled the blankets over her head. She couldn't see the sad people. They couldn't see here. She smiled.

"Hermione … do you …. How do you feel?" They still saw her. She frowned. She peeked out from the blankets. The dark-haired boy had his head in his hands. So sad. The fire boy tried to smile at her, it was a sad smile.

"Feel fine. Fine, fine," she whispered. Fire boy's face glistened. She wanted to touch it. She reached out, it was wet. She felt her face, it was wet too. "Sad. Everyone sad." All her fault, no more smiles. She pulled the covers over her had again. No more sad. She was tiered now. She closed her eyes, the darkness came back.

Pain, pain. In her fingers and her toes, she wanted to laugh, to be happy, it was time to be happy. There had been too much sad. When all this is over, I promise you, we will be happy. When is it over? The voice was sure. Would it tell her? She trained to ask it, but then she heard her voice. It was busy screaming.

"Hermione! Hermione, you are alright! It's okay!" Arms grabbed her, they shook her. Run. She kicked and flailed. The arms let go and she toppled off the bed. Run. She ran, big doors opened. The fire people were back. She turned and ran. There was a door. A hidden door. She opened it. Lots of blankets in the corner. She jumped on them. Some blankets started to fly away. Butterfly ghosts. She smiled and watched them spin in the air.

Outside her door there was whispering. The door creaked. She pulled the blankets over her head.

"Hermione… it's Ron. Just me ok?" She peeked out of her blankets. Fire boy poked his head in the door. He was scared now. It was over, the voice promised happiness. No one seemed happy. She need him to be happy. She looked around and pointed in the air.

"Butterfly ghosts!" She smiled at him.

"The moths?" He looked up and frowned. Moths, moths. He wasn't happy. She frowned.

She pointed at him. "Happy." She smiled at him, then looked up again. "Butterfly ghosts." She looked back at him again.

Fire boy rubbed his neck, and looked from there to the insects. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Butterfly ghosts. Ok." He took a few steps closer, hands in his pockets now. "Do you like them?" She nodded. His smile grew. "Good." He sat on the floor by her blankets, but he didn't touch them. He didn't talk more. He just sat with her and watched her friends dance. She was tired again, the blackness came. She didn't like the dark.

White replaced the darkness, she blinked against the sunlight streaming through the window. She sat up and looked around. She was in a pile of blankets, but instead of being on the floor she was on a bed. The corner of the room and been cleaned up. Next to the bed she was on was a chair… where fire boy was sound asleep. She watched him. She didn't know why he was still here. But he was nice to here.

"Hermione!" His shout startled her. She hid back under her blankets. She could hear him breathing, as if there wasn't enough air. Once his breathing slowed, she peeked out of her blankets. His head was in his hands. At the sound of her rustling, he looked up, his eyes looked sad. Tired. He laughed, and she jumped, startled again. "Why couldn't it have been me?" he stared out the window, looking but not seeing. "If I were in that bed, you could have fix me. You would have read all the books, found all the pieces. It's second year all over again. Except this time, the answer isn't curled up in your hand." Then fire boy got up and left.