Tie your Heart at Night to Mine, Love

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Hermione kept her gaze locked on the wizards' backs as she followed them inside the castle. The feeling of guilt threatened to overwhelm her – it crept up from the bottom of her stomach and wrapped around her heart and lungs. So many had fallen… How was she to look into Mrs. Weasley's eyes when she managed to survive and Fred hadn't? How was she to stand in Professor Snape's funeral and cry when they all believed he was evil? And how was she to live if Professor Lupin died because of her?

She knew the emotion wasn't helpful. She knew it changed nothing and knew that deep down it wasn't her fault. And, eventually, her mind – her logical, rational mind – would prevail over these feelings. But at the moment, there were no words, no sense to make of any of it. So she kept her gaze trained on the one person she could – must – save, because that unconscious man was the only thing that kept her from falling apart.

They reached the makeshift infirmary that the Great Hall had become and Hermione stopped at the doors. Mr. Weasley and the Auror lowered Professor Lupin to a floating hospital cot, before leaving to fetch Madam Pomfrey. The thought of not having to go to the Hospital Wing was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless, for Hermione's sore muscles could not make the trip all the way to the fourth floor even if the staircases hadn't been structurally compromised. She only wished the new location could smell more like the old one – gone was the scent of fresh sheets mingled with essence of Dittany – a scent she had long associated with recovery and friends' well wishes. In its place wafted the smell of burnt flesh and sweat.

"Hermione, dear?" Hermione had somehow missed the arrival of Professor McGonagall, who was now standing in front of her. Snapped out of her stupor, Hermione moved so to keep Professor Lupin in sight. "Are you alright?"

Hermione felt her eyes prickle. She gave the tiniest nod and changed the subject. "And the fifth years?"

"Lorena and Madeline will be fine, thanks to you I believe."

"Good, that's good."

There was silence, and Hermione went back to watching Professor Lupin. She could feel the older witch's eyes on her, almost as if she was hesitant to leave.

"Hermione," McGonagall began, "Was it Remus that cast the Patronus spell?"

"No, I did it, professor."

"Was he conscious then?"

Hermione shook her head. "The curse hit him and h-he…I conjured my Patronus and sent it away to get help."

"I see." The older witch pursed her lips, a frown deepening the vertical lines at the bridge of her nose.

Hermione was about to ask her why when Madam Pomfrey made her way through the patients. "Miss Granger, Arthur just told me you were the one with Remus when he was hit, did you hear the spell?"

"It was wordless magic."

"Are you quite certain?"

"I…" Hermione closed her eyes and tried to recall if there was a whisper, any sound that she could've dismissed as rustling leaves or the wind blowing. There were none. "Yes, I am. I was fighting a Death Eater, not sure which one, then there was silence. I looked to the side and heard Professor Lupin shout. I caught a glimpse of purple sparks and then we were on the ground. His temperature was high. I checked his pulse, his heartbeat was strong. That's good, right? It was beating fast–I-I couldn't count. I should've counted, why didn't I?"

"You did well, my dear." Madam Pomfrey reassured her, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. Hermione looked up, but the healer wasn't looking at her.

"What?" Hermione asked, catching the worried glance the two witches shared, but neither of them answered.

McGonagall raised her hand to her chest. "You don't think…"

"Purple sparks, fever, rapid heartbeat. It does sound eerily similar." Madam Pomfrey's lips curled downwards in what looked like sympathy.

"Similar to what?" Hermione pressed.

"There was a curse used in the last war. We don't know much about it, most are only conjectures. Some believe it may be a variation of the Flagrante Curse, others…"

"What?"

"Well, others think it might be an internal kind of Fiendfyre." Hermione felt her blood stop flowing, and the healer quickly added. "Of course there's no evidence to support either opinion. So no point in dwelling on them, my girl."

"Perhaps Hermione could stay with him, Poppy?"

"She is dehydrated, underfed and clearly exhausted, not to mention—"

"In a cot next to his. I know Miss Granger, she won't care for herself unless you allow her to care for a friend."

The medi-witch rolled her eyes. "Oh, very well. As long as you mind your own health first and follow my instructions."

"I promise," Hermione said before Madam Pomfrey left to tend to the patient. "Thank you, Professor."

"No need to thank me, dear. I'm sure Remus would appreciate your company."

As Hermione turned to follow the Healer and Lupin's floating cot, she thought she heard her Transfiguration professor mutter 'If someone can heal him, it is you.'

But maybe her imagination had started to play tricks on her.

A/N: Here's another chapter!

I hope you like it and pleeease review. It takes time and effort to write and I wanna know if you liked it, if you didn't, what you think will happen… Just let me know you're there :)

Lots of love to pianomouse for the review, Ominouswolf, Vulpeculum, chrissylu 9,genoue, TashC, nostalgia kills, PraiseBeFandom for following and to Ominouswolf for adding the story to the favorites. You rock!

BHS

P.S.: The nameless curse is non-cannon.