Chapter 8: The Cerberus and the Dragon
Hermione Granger abruptly sat up from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall during lunch, and began to gather her things. Ron tapped her on the shoulder, and with a mouth full of food, asked, "Wer ou goin ione?"
"Oh, honestly, Ron. Didn't your mother ever tell you that was disgusting?"
Ron swallowed. "Sorry…So where are you going? You've been running off quite a bit, and you're never in the library."
"Why, have you checked?" Hermione asked.
Ron had the decency to blush. "Uh…we've just been looking for you."
"It's not my problem if you fail your classes, Ron. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to visit a friend." She got up to leave, but Ron grabbed her arm. She glared at him.
"Visit? Friend?" Ron asked, confused. "What friend?"
She shook his hand off, and glared at him. "Harry Potter."
"What? He's a...a Slytherin!" Ron whispered. "Why-"
Hermione cut him off. "I don't need to explain, Ronald. Let me go." And with that, she turned and walked out of the Great Hall, leaving a number of thoroughly confused Gryffindor First Years.
Hermione boarded one of the moving staircases as she headed for the third floor. Harry had been unconscious for three days, and while he was going to live, it was unclear when he'd wake. She'd visited him every time she could; her conscience wouldn't allow her to do anything less. She'd been having nightmares in which she just stood there, frozen, while the troll killed Harry. She still couldn't believe she'd been unable to do anything. I don't deserve to be a Gryffindor. Harry's braver than I am. The Hat was right, I should be a Ravenclaw…
This is all my fault. Harry was reaching out to me and I rejected him. I was stupid enough to believe those terrible rumors that he was a Dark Wizard and a slimy Slytherin lackey of Draco Malfoy. It was so obvious that he was nothing of the sort. That's why he didn't always come to meals. That's why he was always alone…
She'd reached the Hospital Wing. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Madam Pomfrey stepped out of her office. "Oh, it's you again. Take a seat if you must. It's your duty to get to class on time."
"Any improvement," she asked hopefully. Madam Pomfrey nodded. "He'll be awake soon, and he'll make a full recovery. I was able to save his arm, though it might be stiff for a while…and those bruises aren't going to heal easily. The ribs will also be sore." Hermione nodded, she'd been worried Harry might lose his left arm, which had been mangled by his impact with the wall.
She walked over to the chair at the boy's bedside and sat down, pulling out her Transfiguration Textbook. She smiled at him. "I've got fifteen minutes before class, so now would be a nice time to wake up, Harry," she said softly, chuckling to herself. She began to read.
"…c'mon Daph, let me sleep more…" a tired voice sounded from the bed. Harry shifted.
Hermione dropped the book. "Harry?"
A very tired looking green eye opened, then another. His forehead furrowed in confusion, and Hermione put his glasses on. He blinked. "Hermione?"
She nodded, then called over. "Madam Pomfrey! He's awake!"
The matron came bustling out of her office with a tray of potions. "What exactly am I going to do with you, Mr. Potter? Is one near-death experience not enough for you?" she asked jokingly, though Hermione could tell she hoped not to see him again. It was probably mutual.
