Wanderer

A Good Night's Sleep

Chapter Twenty Three- A Good Night's Sleep

February

Hermione woke up feeling an odd sense of calm wash over her. She stretched, arms thrown out, then turned to see that Draco's last message was still drying on the parchment from the night before, bidding her goodnight. A smile tugged at her lips. The sunlight was dainty and fresh, creeping through the slit in the curtains, spilling across the floor of her room and slicing her bed in two. It couldn't have been terribly early if it was light outside already, and Hermione checked her watch on the bedside table. She pulled a face. She was going to miss breakfast.

Languidly, as though she had all the time left in the world, she slipped from bed, yawning and stretching again. A cup of stone cold jasmine tea sat on her desk and Hermione cast a warming charm on it, seeing no reason for it to go to waste, as she collected her clothes for the day and got dressed. For the past month and a half, they'd been meeting Harry and Ron at The Three Broomsticks every weekend, sometimes both Saturday and Sunday if they could get away with it. Hermione was sure there were things the two boys were keeping to themselves, some trump card to play if the case called for it, some Plan B. She hoped so, even if she prayed to every God listening that they'd never have to use it. Every time she left the room they'd claimed as their study, her heart felt a little bit more hopeful. And there were still a few weeks left. There was some hope, after all.

Hermione ran a brush through her hair, grimacing when it merely grew frizzier. She shoved it up instead, before grabbing her beaded bag and leaving for breakfast. They weren't going to Hogsmeade today, so she wasn't surprised to see Draco was missing. He'd taken to going flying recently, tasting the last winds of freedom on his tongue just in case. Though she hadn't gotten on a broom with him again, sometimes she'd sit in the stands with a book and pretend to read whilst she watched him over the top of her page. He always knew she watched him. The smug bastard had even once caught her out by asking how many pages she'd managed to get through, when it was painfully obvious she hadn't even finished the introduction. He'd laughed- a lot, and Hermione had thwacked him with the book until he'd stopped laughing and started whining at her. She rolled her eyes at the memory and sat down at the Gryffindor table, helping herself to some toast.

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione paused, mid-bite. She glanced up. McGonagall was standing over her, hands folded together, black sleeves billowing. She always wore black robes, nowadays, Hermione never failed to note: black for mourning.

"Miss Granger, what in heavens are you doing here?"

Hermione frowned, swallowing the food she had in her mouth as quickly as she could, covering her face to preserve at least a shred of her dignity. "Pardon?"

McGonagall's eyes widened. "Miss Granger, you are aware of what day it is today, are you not?"

Hermione felt her heart drop through her chest. She couldn't quite place what the feeling was, only that it was profound and heavy and agonising. She shook her head numbly.

"Hermione," the Headmistress softened her voice, but the whiteness of her knuckles gave away how tightly she was clasping her hands together. "I received an owl from the Ministry only two days ago, concerning Mister Malfoy." Hermione closed her eyes. The toast dropped from her hand. All the chatter of the Great Hall fell to a murmur. "His trial has been unexpectedly moved forward."

Despite it all, despite the bile that was rising in her throat and the tears that leaked from her eyes, Hermione still managed to whisper, "When?"

"Today, Miss Granger."

She felt herself slipping from the bench but she never reached the ground. McGonagall's hands were on her arms, coaxing her to her feet, avoiding a scene, leading her from the Great Hall, where life continued on as if nothing had happened. They passed Ginny as they left, and she called Hermione's name, but it fell on deaf ears. They walked through the castle in silence, waiting in silence as the Headmistress said the password, and the entrance to her office appeared. Hermione didn't remember walking up the spiral staircase or sitting wordlessly in the chair opposite Professor McGonagall. She only remembered being offered a lemondrop, and the acidic burst of lemon on her tongue.