Sleep is a very powerful tool.
It rejuvenates us. It allows our bodies to repair, and sometimes sleep even leads us to places that we have never been before. Or places that we never want to return to.
As Hermione began getting sleepy earlier in the day, as she lay in the hospital wing, she had prayed that there would be no bad dreams, no frightening nightmares. And in fact, as the beautiful young girl slept soundly in the hospital wing, there were no dreams. No nightmares. Just blissful, uninterrupted sleep.
Hours upon hours had passed. Gradually, Hermione had begun to stir. She stretched a bit, and slowly opened her eyes.
The once bright blue morning sky had turned to a mixture of light blue, dark yellow, and rust color. She had guessed it was around supper time, or thereafter. To confirm her findings, she heard the clock in the courtyard chime. It was in fact, seven o'clock.
How long had she been sleeping, she thought to herself. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, and shifted in bed. Her back hurt, but not half as much as it did before. Actually, it was quite a bit better, to Hermione's relief. She reached around to her back and felt a small bandage around the site where the glass had penetrated her skin.
Hermione sat up slowly, and swung her legs off of the cot. Letting her legs and feet dangle on the floor, she took a look at her surroundings.
The hospital wing was deserted, quite empty to say the least. She looked at her cot, the ivory colored blanket and pure white sheets. Madame Pomfrey had put Hermione in a type of hospital gown, a gown that had a tie at the back of it. Hermione had assumed this was to expose her back for treatment of the wound. She next glanced at the floor beneath her, and then raised her eyes to look at the table that was positioned next to her bed.
There was a bottle. A blue bottle. Simple and plain. It was clearly filled with some type of liquid. She grasped the bottle in her hands, and ever so carefully, extracted the cork. She slowly brought the bottle closer to her nose, and decided to take a quick sniff.
She closed her eyes and smiled.
It was a familiar potion, one that she had definitely drank before. It smelled heavenly, and it brought a warm smile to Hermione's lips. Beside the bottle was a piece of paper, folded over once. Hermione, ever the curious, reached for the paper, wincing a bit in pain due to the stretch. She took hold of the parchment and read the note:
'I am most certain that you would have brewed a near flawless potion this morning. Be that as it may, I have included another batch of Dreamless Sleep potion in the blue bottle you see before you, should you need it. You and Potter are expected in the dungeons tomorrow evening, promptly at eight thirty. Do not be late. There is much to discuss.'
There was no signature on the note. The penmanship was unmistakable, and Hermione recognized it at once to be the writing of her Potions Professor. She smiled to herself. A simple act of kindness, she thought. Kindness? It wasn't in his nature, was it? Perhaps there was another…motive behind it all. Hermione shook her head. She reminded herself to stop reading too much into things, and scolded herself for letting her thoughts get the best of her. She took the note and bottle for what it was worth.
As if on cue, she heard the door to the infirmary open, and two distinct voices echoed softly throughout the hospital wing. She turned around and grinned.
There stood her two best friends, both smiling, quite glad and a tad bit relieved to see her awake.
Ron walked over to Hermione, and gave her a giant hug and kiss on the forehead.
'Hey there Mione...or should I say sleeping beauty?' he joked as she chuckled.
Harry was next to greet her. He bent down to give her a kiss on the lips, a kiss that was very much welcomed and in Hermione's opinion, was much too short…
'Hello love. How are you feeling?' he asked.
'Actually...I'm...I'm pretty good! Little pain here and there, but otherwise good as gold,' she said, smiling up at the boys who stood in front of her.
'Well,' said Ron, now taking note of what he was holding in his arms, '...we thought that since it was such a lovely evening and you need fresh air, we would bring you a change of clothes that Ginny picked out-' and Harry interjected '-and Mione, we also brought you a sandwich and some fruit from dinner. You need to eat you know,' said Harry, looking pseudo-sternly at her.
'Harry, you sound just like Ginny. Honestly, she gave me the same lecture just this morning!' Hermione said, grinning from ear to ear.
Ron handed Hermione her clothes, which were folded quite neatly. She looked at the pile for a moment, and then looked up at the boys.
'Get changed,' Ron said. 'We'll wait outside,' he called, as Ron and Harry both made their way out through the door of the hospital wing.
Within moments, Hermione stepped out of the hospital wing. Ginny had done a good job, and Hermione was thankful for her superb fashion skills.
With her gray sneakers, a pair of jeans that Mrs. Weasley had magically altered to accommodate her growing belly, a pink short sleeve shirt and a white sweat shirt complete with hood, Hermione stepped out of the wing and stood in front of the boys. She zipped up the sweatshirt, after all, the weather outside was nice but was still just a tad chilly.
She reached into one of the pockets of the sweatshirt, and pulled out a black band that she used to place her hair in a ponytail. She swept up her hair with ease and she had to admit that it felt good to get her hair off of her neck.
'Wow, Mione. You clean up well,' Ron joked. She punched him lightly on the arm.
'Yeah, love. That hospital gown was sexy in its own little way, but this...this is much better,' Harry said with a chuckle and a grin.
Hermione looked at him, and got on her tippy toes to give Harry a quick peck.
'Come on,' she said, hooking arms with the boys. 'I'm starved! Where do you want to go? Courtyard?' asked Hermione. The 7th years were allowed to travel amongst the grounds in the evenings, although there was a specific perimeter that clearly defined where they could and could not go.
The Trio, arm in arm, walked slowly down the steps, talking, chatting, and laughing amongst themselves. They reached the final landing, when at the bottom of the steps, they saw three figures approaching their way. The only three figures who could possibly ruin their evening.
At the bottom of the steps stood Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy. And they were looking for trouble.
Draco began laughing, a dry and sarcastic laugh. A wicked grin plastered upon his sallow face.
'Well well, well…if it isn't the Mudblood, the Weasel, and the Boy who shouldn't have lived…' shouted Malfoy, as he and his goons stood at the bottom of the steps, blocking their path.
Harry whispered to Hermione.
'Come on,' he said, nudging her arm forward.
The three made their way down the marble staircase in silence. Harry and Ron shoved their way past Crabbe and Goyle, and Hermione was left to trail behind.
All of a sudden, she felt Draco tug her hair. Her neck snapped back, and she stopped in her tracks. He bent down slightly to whisper in her ear.
'Have a nice trip this morning...Mudblood?' he whispered in her ear, the venom in his voice unmistakable. He let go of her hair and shoved her forward. She stopped.
All of a sudden, she turned around, and grabbed her wand out of her back pocket. Pointing it, shoving it directly into his throat, addressed him - the fury unmistakable in her eyes.
'You,' she said quietly, deadly. Her eyes narrowing, feeling her blood pressure rise.
'You!' she yelled. 'It was you...wasn't it?! You miserable bastard! I swear Draco...one day, you will be sorry...you will pay!' Hermione yelled through gritted teeth, as she felt the anger rise up in her.
Draco was dumbfounded. The look on her face, in her eyes, was frightening to say the least.
Snape was right. She was dangerous.
Then all of a sudden, Hermione snapped out of her tirade. What made her shift her emotions was located deep within. Something that had gotten her attention.
The baby. She felt the baby move.
Before she had a chance to lower her wand, a hand snaked swiftly around her wrist, the same wrist that was outstretched, holding her wand in perfect position in the side of Draco's feeble neck.
'You're coming with me,' stated the homeless-looking figure with yellowing misaligned teeth. Catching students, catching misbehaving students, was his absolute specialty.
It was Filch. And she was caught.