𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 | Dramione

Chapter 12

December 25 1999

sometimes i think about you,
and my heart breaks again
even now
even still.

~

The room was light, sunny rays peeked through the little window of the familiar room. She'd been in here before— Madam Pomfrey's office. The mattress squeaked under her weight as Hermione shifted to sit upright against the brick wall. Her muscles ached. The curtains were already drawn and she adjusted her eyes to the bright light as she ran her fingers through her loose hair. When she lifted the sheets, Hermione found herself in her own pyjamas. Her stained dress was hung neatly across the chair, her heels on top. On the desk, her watch and hair pins lay next to her wand. She scanned the tiny room. The bookcase was filled with more black and blue spines, Madam Pomfrey had restocked her collection with more Muggle books.

A pounding head ache washed over as her eyes flickered to the emerald dress. She squeezed them shut, trying to recall the events of last night. She remembered Ron. The slow dance. Drinking. Running onto the dance floor. Laughing. Spilling her drink. She remembered his voice. Draco's voice.

No.

She was remembering wrong. Her hands raked through her hair aggressively, landing on her temples, trying to focus.

Little footsteps grew louder approaching the room as she heard someone knock on the door.

"Good morning dear."

"H—hello Madam Pomfrey."

"You took a great fall last night."

She spoke with the same nourishing motherly tone Hermione missed hearing.

"I—I think I may be mixing up my memories."

"Yes yes that's normal dear. You fainted. It will come back to you shortly."

"I fainted?"

"Yes. I heard you may have had a tad much to drink," she said apprehensively. Pomfrey let out a small chuckle. "Thank heavens Mr. Malfoy was there. You could have suffered a horrible head injury! You must be more careful from now on Hermione."

The room spun. Black spots clouded her vision as her breath hitched. Fingers trembling, she tried to grip the edge of the thin mattress. Mr. Malfoy. She was being sucked into her ocean, drowning into the abyss.

Hermione focused on her occlumency but her walls broke later by later as she struggled against the water filling her lungs. Finally, she resurfaced and the memory of him came rushing back. She flickered to Pomfrey, who was staring at her with wide eyes.

"M—Malfoy?"

"Yes. Mr. Malfoy caught you after you fainted and brought you to me. I must say I was quite surprised to find you here again, I thought something horrible had happened with your—your arm.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She stared quietly at Madam Pomfrey while she attempted to collect her thoughts. Was she dreaming? Perhaps this was all another figment of her imagination and she would soon wake up in her room. She'd settled on that.

"Miss?"

She stared back at Pomfrey, live and in the flesh.

"Erm—yes alright. I think it's coming back to me. Thank you Madam Pomfrey."

"What for dear? I simply administered a few potions. It's Malfoy who insisted on staying the night with you."

The words rung through her ears but her brain didn't quite seem to process them. It's Malfoy who insisted on staying the night with you. Why?