Loving the Lonely

Chapter 11

One thing people have always failed to notice about Hermione is her absolute inability to keep still. 

While reading, she'll drum her fingers against any hard surface within reach or bounce her leg in a way that makes fellow students glare in her direction. In class, she keeps her attention on the board, but her quill is twirled and twisted every which way when not in use. Even in sleep, more so now than ever in the past, she rolls all over the bed and throws out her limbs wide. 

When she'd been younger, her parents had smiled and called it a quirk, saying she was just an active and happy child. As she grew, though, the muggle teachers Hermione had had before Hogwarts had told her to keep quieter and calmer, seeing her movements as an annoyance, not a quirk to be called cute. Her old classmates would giggle whenever Hermione's knee would accidentally knock against the desk and create a noise so loud that the teachers would jump in their chairs. 

Hermione never minded, knowing now that the constant movement is what had helped keep her alive during the war, and what helps her now when stillness means memories overtaking her. 

The only problem is that while in the hospital, stillness is needed, and Hermione has none left to offer after her second day in bed. 

"Please, Madame Pomfrey, just a walk around the room is all I ask," Hermione begs, not for the first time. 

"Now, Miss Granger," Pomfrey huffs, her face red as she nears the end of her patience. "What have I been telling you? You're to stay in bed for at least another two days. You're feet still aren't recovered and your ribs will be tender for a while yet. 

Hermione does her best to look as imploring as she can manage. "I'm just so sore sitting on this bed all day and night. I really think a nice walk around would help." 

Pomfrey's eyes narrow and Hermione's expression crumples to one of defeat. "You're worse than Mr. Malfoy had been. Always whining about laying down," she mutters as she disappears behind Hermione's drawn curtain. 

Heaving a sigh, Hermione drops back against her pillows and crosses her arms. It's only out of spite that she keeps in her grunt of pain when her torso aches afresh. She stares at the old curtain for a full three minutes, feeling as if every last muscle in her body is stretched to the point of snapping from all her inactivity, before she groans and reaches for the book at her bedside. Theo had brought it in yesterday and, while she'd been thankful, this will be her third time reading through it. 

Anything is better than nothing, though. 

She's only a quarter of the way in when her curtain parts again and in walks Theo himself. "You look positively miserable," Theo chuckles as he settles in the chair beside her bed. 

Hermione shoots him a dark look, but she won't look a gift horse in the mouth. Conversation is a welcome reprieve from the silence around her that's broken only by the occasional cough from another student. She sets her book aside. "Really, what made you guess that?" 

"Well that's what you get for going out and getting yourself hurt for no reason," Theo reminds, no less upset than he had been on the first day she'd woken up. He stares at her a moment, so long, in fact, that Hermione twitches and fiddles with her blanket. "Make up a list," he finally offers, "of the books you want from the library. I'll bring them to you after dinner." 

A surprised smile works its way across her lips. She's finally being given the chance to do something other than sit and stare. The very idea of research is enough to feel like waking up on Christmas morning. So she eagerly takes the quill and paper when it's offered and sets to work on compiling a list. 

She picks a few random topics, keeping her focus on animals, and when she slips in a book or two about wolves, she prays it won't seem too odd. Even still, Hermione holds her breath as she hands her list over and watches him skim it. He only smiles, though, and tucks the paper into the pocket of his school robes.