Turn back time - Hermione Granger in the Marauders era

Chapter 35 - Recovery

Hermione was drowned in darkness. It leered over her, slept on her, suffocated her. She choked on it. Coughing and sputtering in the blackness. Surely, she must have been dead.

But how could death hurt this much?

Pain seered through her arm, an ache like the burn of fire. Drums and distant voices echoed in her ears. Lights stabbed at her eyes. Pain attacked all her senses. Somehow, a low moan escaped her lips. Dizzy and confused, Hermione rolled on to her stomach. Gently, she raised herself up onto all fours. Immediately, she crashed to the floor again at the sight of her arm.

Mudblo-

Red stained her arm. Why hadn't the disgusting word been completed? Hermione couldn't think straight. The distant voices in her head were too loud. Far too loud. The voices were banging about, casting spells and screaming. It sounded almost real.

Maybe it was.

As soon as she realised it, she heard a door burst open. She moaned out, unable to make any more of a sound. Someone shouted out. Suddenly, hands were on her. Someone was asking her questions. Begging for answers. Scooping her up and shouting.

Sirius.

"HERMIONE? PLEASE! PLEASE! HERMIONE WAKE UP! PLEASE! HERMIONE WAKE UP! ANSWER ME? DON'T BE DEAD. PLEASE. PLEASE. I LOVE YOU. DON'T DO THIS PLEASE. PLEASE. JAMES, PETER HELP ME! PLEASE HERMIONE. PLEASE!" He screamed at her, grabbing her in his arms, rocking her body as he sobbed.

"Sirius..." She whispered.

He gasped and sobbed again, bowing his forehead down to hers. More people rushed into the room and separated the both of them. Sirius was shouting. Stressed voices were shouting back. She was picked up again and carried by someone else. She was far too weak and pained to struggle. In a blur, she was carried away. Up hallways and through corridors, the shouts of people following after her and the echoes of spells and enchantments in the dungeons further and further away. Then the overwhelming familiar smell of the Hospital Wing overcame her. Madame Pomfrey was shouting something. Hermione was set down on the bed, people hurried about her. It was all too much. The darkness overcame her again.

Hours, or maybe days later, Hermione awoke in a soft bed after the longest sleep she had perhaps ever had. She shivered in between the bed clothes, her eyes just about opening, still being inclined to shut at the bright morning light. She smiled to herself naively. With a sharp pain, the memories hit her. Arubtly, she sat up, scanning the room. The Hospital Wing. She gasped. Racking her head for the previous nights experiences. She choked on a sob. Lily, Sirius...

Mary.

"Hello?" Hermione shouted out, already tears overwhelmed her. No one answered, but she could hear a faint buzzing from the corridor.

Automatically, she sat up properly. With a gasp she examined her arm. The scratches were still there, shaping the first half of the filthy word, but the blood had been cleansed off her and the cuts had healed considerably. She rubbed her head in her hands for a few moments before stepping out of bed reluctantly. She stood up, stayed still for a few seconds to rid the dizziness and the walked to the doors, clinging to other bed frames as she stumbled.

"Hermione?" Someone called out behind her.

Hermione whirled around so quickly that she was struck with a dizzy spell. Her knees gave way beneath her and she stumbled to grab hold of the nearest bed to steady herself. Blinking her dizziness into submission, she asked "Lily?"

Lily sat at the far end of the Hospital Wing curled in blankets on her bed. She was ashen faced but seemingly relieved. Despite how comfortable she looked in the bed, her eyes were hung with dark shadows.