A/N: I don't own Harry Potter

Word count: 589

"Crooks? Sweet kitty, go find Draco for me, Crooks?"

"Merow?"

"Draco, remember, the guy who fed you?"

"Mow!"

"Hermione?"

"Morning, Crookshanks found you?"

"Yes, he sat on my chest and whined until I got out of bed. Do you need something?"

"I need to pee, can you help me to the loo? I tried to stand up and got dizzy."

"Okay, here, put your arm around me, careful! I've got you, Hermione. Step, step, there you go. Okay, I'm going to stay right here outside, call me when you're ready to go back."

"Thank you. Draco."

"Same as before, Hermione! Watch where you're putting your hands."

"Ooops, sorry, Draco."

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you did that on purpose. You didn't, did you? Never mind, don't answer that. Here we are, back to your bed."

"Is it Thursday yet?"

"It's Wednesday...by two hours. No, you're still not getting a book. Good night Hermione."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"Briiiing, brrriiin."

"Did you have to give her that infernal bell, Draco?"

"It was better than her getting out of bed and possibly hurting herself."

"Briiiing, briiiiiiiiiiing."

"I take that back."

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Is it breakfast time yet? There's no windows and there's no clock, and I'm hungry, and is there any more marmalade and biscuits?"

"Yes, there is more marmalade and biscuits. Would you like some tea also?"

"Please. With honey?"

"One moment."

"I can't wait until her head heals..."

"Don't like play house elf to Miss Granger?"

"Don't start. I almost...no, she's fine. She never asked to be hurt, never asked to be thrown aside by that idiot. When I find him..."

"You'll not be stupid enough to fight him and get yourself thrown in Azkaban?"

"Do I look like an idiot, Uncle Severus?"

"Do you really expect me to answer that, Draco?"

"Hi!"

"What are you doing out of bed, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione."

"Fine, what you are you doing out of bed, Hermione?"

"I ran out of marmalade. Also, pepperoni?"

"No, I don't have any pepperoni, and that was the last of the marmalade. Make me a list and I'll go shopping later today, alright?"

"Can you pick up Numbers of Possibilities by Alice Conturea?"

"That's a book."

"Yes, and I'll be able to read it when I'm better. I can't really afford to get behind in my work. Professor Matthers will be expecting my half of research."

"Sounds like you're on the mend, Hermione."

"Yes, now, since I'm not allowed a quill and parchment, can some please write Professor Matthers for me, let him know I'm alive?"

"I know him personally actually."

"Not surprised, sir. He did at one point mention knowing you. Most scholars seem to know each other in some aspect."

"I did not, however, know you were working with him. You're working on the probability project?"

"Yes, sir. With my talent at arithamancy I wanted to do some good."

"I'll speak with him this evening, Hermione. What would you like me to tell him? I know you want to keep your assault and personal life, personal."

"Just let him know I had some things come up, if he presses...he most likely won't, tell him I had a medical issue. I'm pretty sure being beat and a concussion count?"

"Very well, Hermione."

"Is this everything you want me to pick up, Hermione?"

"I think so, wait, crisps, the cheese kind."

"Is that everything?"

"Yes. No, more tea?"

"Got it. I'll be right back with everything on this list...and whatever else I decide to buy."

"Bye Draco."