Marry Me (Dramione)

22. The Aftermath

Hermione barely heard her alarm go off as she groaned in pain. Her whole body felt heavy and exhausted and sore. She slowly and painfully rolled over to her side, shutting off the alarm with all the strength she could muster. She fell right back down on her back, groaning as she opened her eyes. Her nose was all clogged up and she felt absolutely horrible.

The cold finally caught up to her.

And she felt like shit.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows as she looked up at the ceiling. She didn't feel like moving nor did she feel like getting out of bed. Her body was aching, her head was pounding, her nose was red and runny, and she felt gross and sick. Letting out a deep sigh, she slowly tried to sit up but fell back down on the bed. "Ouch," She moaned out as she pulled the covers over herself. It was a strange feeling. She was hot - her body felt like it was on fire, yet when the covers were off, she instantly grew goosebumps from the sudden cold. "Oh no," She groaned out, turning to her side.

She was incredibly sick.

And she was all alone.

"I need to get up." Hermione whispered to herself, desperately attempting to keep her eyes open. But her eyelids had something else in mind. They kept weighing down as if someone was deliberately pushing her eyelids back down for her to sleep some more. The sound of the rain hitting her window only made her want to throw up. "Stupid rain ... stupid Ron ..." She mumbled under her breath, burying her face into her covers as she groaned.

But then, there was a knock at her door, which only made Hermione roll her eyes.

"Coming," She tried to shout but realized her voice was hoarse and barely a whisper. She tried to scream but nothing came out. "Oh my god," She said, mustering with all her strength to get up. She slowly rolled out of bed as she knocks grew louder and more urgent. Hermione made her way out of her bedroom and over to the door. She unlocked her door and opened it.

It was Pansy.

"Pansy," She said, which only came to be a whisper.

"Oh my bloody hell, you look horrible." Pansy stated with shock.

"Thank you," Hermione cocked up an eyebrow. "I don't feel too good, either."

"And you sound just as bad,"

"Are you going to keep insulting me--"

"I'm sorry, you're right. Can I come in?"

Hermione nodded, closing the door behind Pansy. "Uh, what brings you here? How did you know where I lived?"

"It's not hard to find out where Hermione Granger lives, there are about a hundred reporters staking outside. I suggest you apparate or floo your way over to places, you'll die out there." Pansy stated, perusing the flat. "How are you?"

"Sick," Hermione stated as she collapsed down on the couch. "If you want some tea ... the kitchen's over there. I'm sorry,"

"No, you're fine. How did you get so sick?" Pansy asked, walking over and sitting down on the couch.

"I, uhm, two days ago I was in the rain for a while."

"Oh, I see. Oh, you poor thing. And you live all alone, there's no one to care for you." Pansy frowned as she stared at the girl in front of her. "How are you holding up? After ... everything."

Hermione scoffed lightly as she let out a dry laugh. She regretted it because her throat began to hurt. She coughed and cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. "There's nothing I can really do, is there?"

"I-it isn't that bad, you know--"

"Everyone thinks I'm a slut after Malfoy's money. Yeah, it's not that bad." Even though she whispered, the sarcasm that followed was dripping off of her tongue like venom.