Hermione slowly came to consciousness, and instantly knew that something was wrong.
For one thing, the Sun seemed to being shining directly in her eyes, its warmth uncomfortably close to her closed eyelids. And its light was off-color, looking more industrialized. More like a….hospital light.
Hermione then realized that she was lying on some sort of bed. Feeling around with her surprisingly weak fingers, she could tell that the bed was rather small, no bigger than a twin size.
Oh. She was in the hospital wing.
Hermione opened her eyes, and sure enough, she was in the hospital wing. Squinting her eyes against the glare of the lights, she slowly turned her head to the left, where the sounds of someone moving around could be heard.
Sure enough, there was Madame Pomfrey fiddling with some potion bottles on the bedside table of an empty hospital bed.
"M-Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione croaked, then instantly recoiled. Why did her voice sound like she had sandpaper in it? Suddenly a wave of pain came over her, based somewhere in her back. She let out a yell, arching her back in an attempt to alleviate the pain. It felt like someone was taking a knife and carving out holes in-between her shoulder blades.
Pomfrey was instantly at her side, pushing her back down on to the bed. She was holding a syringe, like the kind that muggle doctors used. Hermione's eyes widened and she watched in horror as Pomfrey stuck the needle in her arm, forcing the silvery liquid into her bloodstream.
A couple seconds later, Hermione drifted off into unconsciousness.
It was around midnight when Dumbledore quietly opened the doors to the Infirmary. He slipped past the unconscious Hermione, twitching in pain while in her deep slumber.
Closing the door to Pomfrey's office, he quietly sat down across from her desk. She didn't even look up from her task. It looked like she was dividing different amounts of the silvery fluid into three different syringes.
"How is she doing?" He asked quietly.
"She is almost done with the transformation. I have only enough of the Silverria to keep her under for two days. This syringe," She held up the one in her hand, "I have to put in now."
Dumbledore followed her over to Hermione, and watched the girl lying on the bed. She looked drained. He was not surprised. The transformation was described by her grandfather like 'feeling a bulldozer run over you, with broken glass shards for wheels.'
Either way, it wasn't a pleasant experience.
Hermione's hair hung lank across her face, and her forehead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Her skin trembled slightly, and every couple of seconds, her back arched and her face contorted in pain. He could tell when the Silverria began to take affect, became he face instantly calmed. Like the eye of the hurricane, he thought, almost bitterly.
Madame Pomfrey motioned for them to go back into her office.
Once there, she said in an exasperated voice, "This is one of the worst transformations I have ever seen."
"How many have you seen?" He asked in a low voice.
"23. And not even three combined would rival hers. I have had to give her three times the normal dose just to keep her in her semi-unconscious state. I have no idea what she will be like when she comes into full awareness. How is Mr. Malfoy coping?"
Dumbledore's eyes had a small twinkle now. "He's distraught, mentally and physically. The bond between them is stronger than we thought. It will be interesting to see their reencounter."
"I only hope that when they meet they do not destroy half the school while their powers. You know how instable newborns are. They won't be aware of anything else when they meet. You know that."
"Yes. This is why I am having Severus take Draco to his mountain cottage for the week, as a break from all the recent family trama."
"Did he buy it?"
"Of course not. Mr. Malfoy is not stupid. But he understands that I want him to go. So he left early this morning. They shall be back when Hermione has fully adjusted to her changes and can deal with Mr. Malfoy."
"Good."
And with that Dumbledore left, leaving Madame Pomfrey to deal with the writhing girl in the hospital bed, sighing to herself in exhaustion.