Another good mix of J.K.R. and myself… Anything of hers comes from Chapter 24, Sectumsempra (HP ). And while I have you here- the usual disclaimer that I do not own the world or characters. Nor do I make any sort of profit.

-\?/- -\?/- -\?/- -\?/- -\?/-

Surprisingly, everything seemed to go right back to normal after her tiny hiatus from reality. Somehow, nobody had overheard or walked in. She had slept through the afternoon and night, waking when the other girls started on their morning routines. Ginny had covered for her absence with excuses of a minor breakdown over a mistake in her study schedule for the coming months. Believable. Yet, telling…

The whole histrionic experience had been eye-opening. Mainly on how she needed to preemptively invest in a permanent bed for herself on the Janus Thickey Ward for when this was all over… But other smaller revelations kept popping up. Some were more useful than others. Such as, the calming potions at the bottom of her trunk helped.

Not in the way they were intended, of course. Being months outdated, they had sat and strengthened to the point that they were no longer impotent without mixing with the dreaded sleeping potions she hated so much. If she took one right before bed, she was able to sleep peacefully. No nightmares… And the soothing effects didn't wear off until well after dinner the next day.

Leaving Hermione with only a couple of hours to deal with the frantic racing of the heart- she did, in fact, have- whenever her thoughts would inevitably go to him. Otherwise, she was able to push the emotions away and use her more critical side to evaluate the situation. Find what good there was to be had in it. Which wasn't very hard. Another telling indicator of just how far she had fallen in the past year.

The things she had been willing to look past made her shudder.

Along with the newfound guilt that surged through her every time she saw Ginny. There was a lingering tension between them that she didn't understand. It wasn't openly hostile or even noticeable to anyone else. She didn't know how to explain, but the other witch's responses were off, and not necessarily because she was handling Hermione with care. Like with the spite-filled excuse given for her missed meal or the brief acknowledgment when she lied about going to see Pomfrey on her own. It wasn't malicious but hinted at some apathetic change to their relationship.

It might have helped if her friends' every waking second wasn't devoted to the game in a few days. If the entire team wasn't down on the Pitch, they were huddled over enchanted parchments. Going over a thousand different plays, the little X and Os that were meant to represent each player zoomed so quickly that she wasn't able to watch for long without becoming dizzy.

Her notable dislike of Quidditch allowed her retrospective disposition to continue to go unnoticed by the boys. While also putting up the barrier of time to a reconciliation with Ginny. At least until after they had won and the whole school could move on…

Of course, the depraved deity, Karma, still held a vendetta against her. Instead of letting her continue to pick through the chaos in peace, she sent an additional obstacle to litter the nearly insurmountable path.

Harry had just gotten done giving their little group the gritty and horrific details of the duel that had taken place between him and Draco. Her rage at the two idiotic males was boiling right under the surface, and she turned to a lecture to keep her mouth busy from the hexes it wanted to spew, "I told you there was something wrong with that Prince person… And I was right, wasn't I?"

"No, I don't think you were," Harry said. Stubborn as ever. He proceeded to avoid looking directly at any of them. The shame over the severity of the injuries received, and the resulting punishment was evident. His callus advocacy of that ridiculous personalized spellbook notwithstanding.

"Harry!" She began, trying to make him see sense. "How can you still stick up for that thing when that curse…"

"Will you stop harping on about the book!" He snapped at her. "The Prince only copied it out! It's not like he was advising anyone to use it. For all we know, he was making a note of something that had been used against him!"

"I cannot believe this!" Hermione's eyes widened with her growing disbelief. "You are actually going to defend…"

"I'm not defending what I did!" Harry interrupted again. Backtracking quickly, he threw a panicked look at each of them before resuming his stare-off with a hole in the rug, "I wish I hadn't done it, and not because I've got about a dozen detentions. You know, I wouldn't have used a spell like that… Not even on Malfoy, but you can't blame the Prince…"

She started to zone out on his pitiful refutation of her feelings for his mysterious role model. She knew what he was planning to do and had to put a stop to it, "Are you telling me that you're going to go back?"

"And get the book? Yeah, I am!" He shrugged as if that outcome was the most obvious. "Listen, without the Prince, I'd never have won the Felix Felicis. I'd never have known how to save Ron. I'd never have…"

Sick of the excuses, it was her turn to interrupt, "... gotten a reputation for Potions brilliance, you don't deserve."

"Give it a rest, Hermione!" Ginny cut in forcefully. "By the sound of it, Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable, you should be glad Harry had something good up his sleeve!"

"What? It should go without saying that I am glad Harry wasn't cursed!" Hermione said through the sting of the accusation. "But you cannot call that Sectumsempra spell good… Look at where it has landed him! How can you support this? Especially after what it has done to your chances in the match…"

The other witch's eyes narrowed at her. "Don't start acting as though you understand Quidditch; you'll only embarrass yourself."

For a long moment, the two girls eyed each other. Seeing how far they were willing to take the spat. Hermione was the first to break as she checked to see if their companions were going to speak up and attempt to de-escalate the situation. Harry sat there with a moronic grin on his face, apparently thrilled to have his crush's erroneous protection. On the other hand, Ronald had hidden himself in an upside-down copy of Ginny's Transfiguration spellbook.

"Fine." She snapped at the three of them as she gathered up her things. Once her task was hastily completed, she turned back to Harry. "I hope it's worth all the trouble."

At the very least, he had the decency to look back down at the floor before she slung her bag onto her shoulder and walked from the Gryffindor common room. Her head held high, she imagined that it was an ordinary evening in which she hadn't alienated two of her closest friends…

-\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/-

Rounds had been agonizing. The adrenaline that scorched through her veins after the argument had burned up what little remained of the calming potion. Morbid curiosity had moved her feet to the sixth-floor corridor where the boys' bathroom was located. There weren't any outward signs of the near-lethal battle that had taken place hours earlier.

In the muggle world, it would have still been a crime scene, with tons of evidence of the destruction within the walls. Flooding from the broken pipes. Police officers running around. Loads of people, primarily media, crowded around for details on what had happened. Granted, two muggle boys would have never achieved the level of carnage that Harry had described. Not without weapons of war.

Naturally, the exercise was moot. A professor had fixed the damage done with a few incantations. No harm, no foul. Unless you were the offenders. Or anyone stupid enough to care for them both.

A conversation from what felt like ages ago echoed in her ears…

"Ahhh… The She-Weasel is to blame…"

Her sigh of annoyance preceded her scolding, "I really wish you wouldn't call my friends names like that."

"That is rich coming from the girl who called one of my friends an 'inbred piece of trash' a couple of days ago." He'd taunted.

"True, but my friends don't make it a habit to tell you that they wished you were dead…" She had pointed out.

"So implications do not count?"

His question had caused her to come up short then, and if asked again… She would be forced to admit that it had gone far past freaking implications and threats. In their desperation for validation they were both dangerous, to themselves and others, and neither would listen to reason.

She continued to wander the shadowed halls until after midnight when Ron silently took over the responsibilities of guarding against stinkbombs and canoodling. The real menaces were tucked away in their separate parts of the castle. Left to deal with the aftermaths of their choices. One, undoubtedly, concentrating on the wrong thing and trying to plan some kind of strategy with his team to win the stupid Quidditch match. While the other, defeated by the use of the dark arts, nursed his hurts in the Infirmary.

The lure of her warm bed and self-medicating tempted her, but there was something she had to do first.

-\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/- -\/-

Hermione stood close to the curtain that blocked his bed from the view of the rest of the empty ward. Her legs shook with the effort it took to stay standing. Relief that he was, in fact, okay had stolen the burst of energy that had sent her there. She had needed to find out for herself.

The only light to see by was cast by the moon, streaming in through the tall windows that framed the expansive night sky. Everything had an ethereal glow about it. Including him.

He was fast asleep. His chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, that proved he was alive, and she shouldn't spare him another thought. And yet, she couldn't tear her eyes away. He was paler than he had been at lunch when she had allowed herself one swift glance in his direction. A feat that she would not have thought possible, considering how sickly he had looked.

In spite of, or maybe because of, the porcelain-like hue to his skin… He looked angelic. Not like the cute little cherubs on Valentine's Day cards, but some painter's flawless rendering of a battle-hardened archangel at rest. She wished she still had the right to reach out and brush the strands of hair that tickled his forehead. It physically pained her to be so close and unable to offer comfort.

She turned to escape the sudden tenderness she felt for the wizard. Gratitude for his survival was one thing. Affection was a whole different instrument of torture to be used against her by her own mind.

"...Her…mio…ne…"

Her name fell from his lips. For a split second, she thought he had come around and caught her there. She froze in place, afraid of how angry he would be. When the berating never started, Hermione slowly pivoted and scanned his still slack features.

His lips had parted slightly with his unconscious sigh, but otherwise, there was no change.

"Mr. Malfoy has been doing that, on and off, all night…" Madam Pomfrey said, her voice barely above a whisper. Bathing herself in the eerie hues of moonlight, the matron stepped from behind the curtain.

"I…" She didn't know what to say in defense of her being hidden there, standing over an enemy who had just said her given name for the first time in recent memory. Unable to offer an adequate excuse, she clenched her jaw to stop any accidental prattling.

"Don't worry, dear." The older witch murmured as she moved over to Draco and started a simple assessment of his condition. "His mumbling didn't start until long after Miss Parkinson left to spread the good news."

Hermione watched as the wrinkled hand ran across his forehead to check for signs of fever. Her jealousy at the basic touch was immediate and powerful. Irrational as it was, she wanted to be the one to tend to him. And the picture of Parkinson's corrupt fingers anywhere near his skin only fanned the flames of resentment higher…

"I'm sure most of the school has been waiting with bated breath to hear of his recuperation." Pomfrey continued to talk as she pulled back the blanket that covered his chest to inspect the bandages. "Certainly, Mr. Potter was ecstatic when he was informed?"

"Yes." A one-word answer was all that was needed from her- but like she had feared would happen, as soon as she spoke, her mouth would not stop moving. "We all were. I didn't do… I'm not here… I was curious."

Satisfied by whatever she was able to deduce with her expert eyes and hands, Pomfrey replaced the blanket, smoothing out the fabric at his shoulders before she leveled Hermione with an impartial stare. "How long have I worked at Hogwarts, Miss Granger?"

"Twenty-eight years."

"Correct, and in that time do you honestly believe that you and this boy are the first ill-fated relationship to grace my sparkling floors?" The witch's gaze held her paralyzed. "You experienced it a few weeks back, if I am not mistaken…"

Her cheeks became hot at the reminder of Ron, who had laid a couple cots down, also calling out for her in the fogged state that the numerous healing potions produced. As if on cue, the sleeping wizard next to them sighed her name again.

"...Her...mi…o...ne…"

She closed her eyes against the hellfire of pain that tore at her newly mended middle, re-opening the lacerations that she had only just gotten to close. The first time, the shock of the sound had delayed the inevitable outcome of her imbecilic visit. Now, there was nothing to buffer the hurt.

"He will be fine. Observation for a couple of nights and back to classes on Monday." Madam Pomfrey's reassurances did little to placate the ripping spasms that tore through her. Sensing the sudden tension, the older witch came over and wrapped a comforting arm around her. "Let's go have a cup of warm milk."

"I should… Go to bed." Hermione whispered, unsure if she would be able to make it to the hall.

"We should have a talk, Miss Granger." The arm tried to guide her away towards the small office where all of their dark secrets had the potential to be spilled.

"I don't want to talk." She pulled from the grasp and blinked to keep her tears from falling. A grown witch with the air of a sulking child, she continued, "I want to go to bed."

"Okay." Pomfrey's hushed tone and quick look over at Draco told her that the woman didn't want him to wake any more than she did. "If you would give me a moment of your time… It will not take long."

"Fine."

Obedient, she followed behind and waited in the doorway as the other witch sat in the wooden chair at her desk. After a moment of fiddling with a stack of papers, the kind-hearted carer gestured to the only other seat in the small enclosed space. "Do sit."

"I… I'd rather not." Hermione told the truth.

Pomfrey looked unperturbed by her immature behavior. She studied her openly for a moment before starting in, "I am proud of what I do here, Miss Granger. Being trusted with countless students' well-being has been difficult but gratifying, to say the least. I have consistently, for better or worse, kept my mouth shut over a number of concerning relationships I have witnessed over the years."

She braced herself for the unwarranted admonition she knew was coming.

"However, when I look at the circumstances surrounding whatever connection there is between you and the wizard out there, platonic or otherwise, I feel as if my hands are tied. I will be consulting with Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall first thing in the morning."

The elder witch truly did look as if she regretted the decision.

"There is no need." When it seemed as if she was going to be interrupted, she elaborated.

"Professor Dumbledore is already aware."

"Oh?"

"He has plans."

"Oh." Such a short and succinct answer was plenty for Hermione to discern the feelings Madam Pomfrey had about their Headmaster's meddling. Her severe eyebrows were knitted together as she responded carefully, "Well… Then I must trust that you both know what you are doing."

A passive shrug lifted her shoulders as she kept her face neutral. "I guess so."

It wasn't like her to be so rude, but she was tired, and the prospect of the few short hours she had left for an untroubled sleep were getting dimmer and dimmer as the minutes ticked by. If it got much later, she wouldn't be able to take the damned potion and soothe the jagged edges of pain that her name in his mouth had brought.

"I hope your future is bright, no matter the journey to get there." An awkward second passed before the nurturing woman continued with a scowl, "And if I may be so bold as to say one more thing…"

"Please do."

"The Weasley boy… He is the safest choice." Madam Pomfrey reinforced the obvious.

"Yes… Yes, he is." Hermione agreed and then turned to walk away.

The witch had said her one thing…