A Distant Fantasy Of His

17) Will it be the same?

"*cough* I'm better, though it still hurts. If it weren't for Madam Pomfrey, I don't know what would've happened to me, I most likely would have perished," Hermione says, expressing her emotions to Ron.

Days have passed, and Hermione's condition has gotten much better. Even though the cut hurts her every now and then, she's able to properly walk, and talk cheerfully. Ron and Harry occasionally visit her in the infirmary, to give her tiny presents, hand-made, or sometimes even stolen.

"I stole this chocolate frog from Neville, eat it before it flees," Ron says, as he fishes a fresh chocolate frog box from his pocket, and gives it to her.

"Poor Neville," Hermione chuckles, but pops the chocolate frog into her mouth all the same, relishing the flavor that explodes inside her mouth.

"Thanks," she grins at Ron.

These weren't the only gifts she received. There were other mysterious gifts that were delivered to her by a really white owl, at midnight.
Most of the times it would be letters, and then sometimes it would be sweet treats.

Ofcourse, it wasn't so mysterious to Hermione. She knew it was Draco sending her the gifts all along. She cherished each letter, and savoured each sweet that Draco gave her. She hadn't met him after the ghastly werewolf incident, but the letters kept them close.

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Weeks have passed now. Hermione's all better. The cuts and scratches have left a deep red scar on her back, but it doesn't hurt anymore. Madam Pomfrey's medical treatment and gifts from her friends worked a treat, and Hermione's now fine.

"You gave us a real fright, that you did, Hermione, I mean, what made you fight with the wolves like that? Why didn't you just run?" Ron asks curiously, as they wait for Snape to arrive in potions class.

"Well, we would've run, if we were given an option. But the werewolves literally surrounded us. There wasn't anything we could do about it." She says, revising for the final term which was 4 days later.

4 more days of preperation.

A week of exam torture.

And finally, end of the first year.

I mean, just like that?

It sounds so bizarre to Hermione. It just feels like yesterday was her first flying lesson on her broom, and yet, now, here she is, 12 days before her first year ended.

Literally, time passes us by in the blink of an eye.

Hermione regrets one thing, and that is she never got to practice enough quidditch. I know, I know, a girl like Hermione, interested in Quidditch??

That's what she thought the first time she was selected as the chaser for Gryffindor, a rush of panic inside of her. But now, after the practices with Oliver Wood and the others, she can confidently say that Quidditch is now one of her favourite sports.

Ofcourse, nothing can top Arithmancy for Hermione.

"You'll very soon play your first ever Quidditch match, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, just wait another year, and I see the effort you both put into Quidditch practice. It's commendable." Mcgonagall had said, beaming at them, in front of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Wood had smiled proudly, giving them an encouraging smile. Hermione smiled back.

Now, as she studies for her upcoming exams, she can't help but feel distracted. Usually, her study sessions with Ron and Harry would be all chatty and playful. But today, Hermione just spaces out, thinking about her life.