Wanderer

Violet Spoons, Underground Rooms and Hermione Granger

Chapter Six- Violet Spoons, Underground Rooms and Hermione Granger

Hermione didn't leave his bedside.

At lunchtime, she'd considered visiting her teachers to collect the work both she and Malfoy had missed but had taken instead to counting the bricks in the opposite wall, first bottom left to bottom right, then the reverse, and then top right to top left, and the reverse. She couldn't now remember how many bricks there were but it had seemed somewhat important at the time. Eventually, when the light faded from the skies and Madam Pomfrey had been to check on her patient (who hadn't woken up once) before disappearing for a final time, Hermione allowed herself some sleep.

The chair wasn't particularly comfortable but she was small enough to make it work. Even so, her neck twisted at a funny angle and she clutched onto her knees, her tongue tasting nothing but potion in the air, and the silence of the sleeping castle. She slept fitfully, woken all of a sudden in a seizure of voiceless panic, before she realised where she was and what had happened the previous day to get her there. There was never much momentum to her nightmares- they simply frightened her into consciousness and she was left grappling for a piece of what made them so haunting.

Hermione was asleep when she heard him screaming.

She jolted awake, the chair clattering, and looked around. Malfoy was writhing on the bed, gripping the side of the mattress so tightly his arms had turned white and the blue of his veins gleamed in the moonlight. His face was screwed up in agony, and he'd bitten his lip so hard it had reopened the cuts, and the blood trickled down his chin. Hermione stumbled to his side. She felt his forehead, her other hand wrapped over his clenched fist, shaking him. He was burning.

"Malfoy," she whispered. She ragged his hand, trying to wake him. He just whimpered. "Malfoy. It's not real. Wake up! Wake up-"

He shot up. His hand twisted to grip hers, and his eyes, wide and frightened, darted around the room, lingering on the dark shapes in the shadows. Malfoy finally looked at her- she wasn't sure if he really saw her- and threw up.

Hermione jumped out of the way. He was still holding her hand so tightly she thought he might accidentally break her fingers, but she managed to rub his back with her other hand, making soothing noises, as he retched. He continued to gag even when there was nothing left and he was running on empty. When he was finished, his body slumped and he fell back against the pillows, sick drying on his chin.

Hermione pressed her lips into a line. He looked so spent, so inexhaustibly tired. She pried her hand out of his, and Malfoy didn't even open his eyes, and began to clean him up, vanishing the pool of vomit that had stained the floor and the bedsheets.

She sat gingerly on the edge of his bed when she was done. He looked dead, grey and exhausted, and Hermione wanted to hold his hand again, to remind him he was still alive.

"Bad dream?" she whispered. It seemed like a stupid question once it shattered the air. Malfoy nodded. He still had his eyes closed and he was taking big, silent breaths that racked his chest. "I get those too."

He didn't reply. Hermione wasn't sure whether he had even heard her, but she stayed sitting beside him, staring down at her shoes. The night felt quieter than before.

"I need to get out of here, Granger," Malfoy said. Hermione didn't know whether he meant the bed, the school or something bigger. He finally looked at her. "Can we go somewhere?"

His eyes were tired and bloodshot.

She nodded. "Okay. Where would you like to go?"

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