Signum Vitalis (a dramione story)

In which there are spells (or lack thereof)

Hermione woke up with her face plastered against a book, drool sticking the page to her mouth. She grunted and pushed her upper body back into a sitting position. She gently pressed out her book page and whispered a gentle apology for mishandling it. Where was everyone? How long had she been asleep? It was dark in the single window in her study room, but that just meant it was sometime after 6pm, which she already knew. The school library didn't close until midnight, a feature she had been using the whole week, but usually there were a few people who stayed as late as she did. She didn't hear any noise except the distant sound of one set of steps along the tiled floor somewhere down the hall.

Her heart was starting to pound and work its way up her chest towards her mouth, making it hard to breathe. She started packing her things, quickly and quietly, but her shaking hands shoved one of her books off of the table and it hit the rug with a muffled bump. She froze, listening for a change in the footsteps. Were they quicker now? She tried to levitate the book instead. It felt incredibly heavy, like trying to move a house. She abandoned the book and poured the rest of them into her bag. She prayed that the shuffling of papers would be muffled by the bookshelves.

That done, she dragged her sweaty and still shaking hands along her robes. She couldn't hear the steps anymore but there was a faint roaring in her ears. Like someone was holding abandoned beach shells to them. Trying to keep her panting as quiet as possible, Hermione grabbed her book bag and inched towards the bookshelves. There was a small opening that she could slip through and hide behind the rows of books. She had scouted it out the first time she used this room. As she slipped through it, her bag bumped the shelf. She immediately dropped to the floor, spinning towards the opening. Everything spun, a little unfocused, and she frantically tried to discern if there was anyone in the room, any wands pointed towards her. Putting her left fist into her mouth she bit down, forcing her breathing to be as slow as she could manage through her nose. Calm. She needed to stay calm. When she could see clearly again, she started to set up wards, but her hands shook too much. She instead pressed herself into a corner, pointed her wand towards the entrance, and waited.

The odd swishing noise in her head had cleared but now she could hear the footsteps again. They were drawing nearer. Maybe they would just pass by. It was a small room, barely noticeable. Except the light. Hermione's breath hitched. She had left a candle burning. They were close enough to notice a snuffed candle. It was too late. The door creaked. She couldn't hear footsteps now. The carpet muffled them. There was a long shadow cast by the candle.

She watched as it loomed closer. Hermione bit her lip and clamped her teeth harder and harder until she felt sharp pain and tasted copper blood.

Something big and black slid from behind the bookshelf. Not trusting her wand technique, she threw a nonverbal. There was a grunt and then the man turned. Catching sight of her, he did a double-take.

"Miss? Are you alright?"

Hermione gulped and tried to shrink back against the shelves a little more. What did he mean, was she alright?

"Do you need to go to the hospital? Should I floo someone?" He stepped closer to her, completely blocking off the exit, and all her warning bells were screaming that she couldn't escape.

"St-stay back." Her words were hoarse, her mouth too dry. Underneath the panic, it was almost impossible to think. Still, worrying at her like an ignored itch, there was a thought. He hadn't attacked back.

He frowned and knelt down in front of her.

She scrambled onto her feet, pushing her wand out between them.

He stood slowly. "I'm the janitor," he said, starting to back up out of the bookshelf corner. "The library is closed. I saw the light."

Hermione's wand started to fall. "You're... the janitor?"