Magic Never Dies (Harmione)

Chapter 5

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Harry woke from a dead sleep to a blinding, paralyzing headache. His tongue felt fuzzy and thick, as if a small animal had died in his mouth. He shifted in bed, trying to turn his head away from the light streaming in his window and realized it wasn't just his head that ached. The rest of him felt as if it had gone ten rounds with Hagrids' little brother as well. He managed to turn to evade the light, blinked, and met Hermione's wide brown eyes at close range. Really close range. Like, on the pillow next to him close.

"Before you panic," she said. "It's not what you think."

Panic? Think? Both of those were functions well beyond his capabilities at this particular juncture.

"Crookshanks left a dead mouse in my mouth," he whispered, deadly serious. It came out more like 'Croosthak gef a deaf moose en my muff.' And Hermione couldn't have understood him at all, really, because she actually began to laugh. Hysterically. She wouldn't make fun of him at a time like this, not his best friend ever. Would she?

Apparently she would.

"I expect it feels that way," she said at last, wiping her eyes, and sat up. The bed rocked slightly, and Harry felt suddenly seasick. He heard the clink of a bottle against glass from the direction of the bedside table behind Hermione and she abruptly re-appeared, looming back into his field of vision alarmingly and extending a glass toward him.

"Lupin left you this. He said you'd need it in the morning."

She tried to hand the glass to him, but quickly spotted the flaws inherent in that plan when his hand wavered right past and missed it altogether.

"Never mind. I'll hold it. You just sit up a bit and..."

He tried to slide his elbow underneath him to raise himself up on the bed but gave up with a hiss as soon his bruised shoulder took his weight. Hermione sighed and slid one hand behind his neck, lifting his head. Surprisingly heavy for what came out of it sometimes...

"Drink." she ordered, guiding the glass to his lips and keeping it there until it was emptied, despite his expression of evident distaste.

Whatever it was - Lupin hadn't said it was a hangover portion, but Hermione had assumed as much from the way he'd made sure Harry was well and truly anaesthetized with firewhiskey before he and Tonks had left the night before - it worked quite remarkably quickly. His eyes began to focus and he remained free of that suspiciously green tinge when she leaned back to replace the glass on the bedside table.

"Better?" she asked.

He nodded tentatively.

"Good," she said. "Let me know when you're feeling quite yourself again, then, so I can go ahead and throttle you."

Harry's eyes crossed and his head sunk further back into the pillow. "Hermione..."

"Yes, that's it. Hermione Granger, remember me? And Ron? Weasley? Big tall guy with red hair, you can't miss him. The friends you're meant to be letting help you? The ones you just left behind, who had to wake up last night to find an Auror sneaking you home a bloody mess?"

She saw his eyes shifting round the room as if searching for Ron's hiding place. "I don't remember Ron, honestly. I mean, of course I remember Ron, just not last night. I remember Lupin... and you... and Tonks. Lupin kept giving me firewhiskey but you guys just had butterbeers. Tonks got kind of bubbly toward the end though, didn't she? You both did. Wait a minute." His eyes narrowed. "Tonks said something about my bum... and you agreed with her!"