I was worried about Hermione. True, she had awoken from her coma, but she looked so skinny and frail the slightest breeze her way would knock her down.
I opened the door to her room, and waved at her. Hermione's eyes were sullen, sunken in, hollow, with dark circles underneath. She was so skinny, the hospital gown hung limp on her.
"Hey, love," she smiled as I walked in.
I grin, perching on the edge of her hospital bed. "You're due to be released in a week."
She grinned and laughed happily, but only for a second. Then she was back to her old, sick, depressed self. "Draco?"
"Was-was Neville ever one of Vo-his followers?"
I shake my head. "I don't think so, why?"
"He refused to show me his left arm."
"‘Mione, my love, Neville might quite possibly be the most innocent person I've ever met. Hell, ‘Mione..." I trail off as tears fall down her face, and instead squeeze her hand.
"Yeah." Her voice was dry and sad, as if she didn't quite agree with me. "Draco, I feel like something is missing."
"What do you mean?"
"I-I don't exactly know, but there's something missing." She looks up at me through her lashes. "Do you get what I'm saying?"
"No, sorry, love."
"Don't be." She shakes her head. "Hey, how exactly did I get here?" She gestures to the hospital, where she is connected to wires and hooks.
"Do you really want to hear that story?"
Before I could begin, however, a loud alarm rang through the hospital. The was a loud bang, and the floor rushed up to greet me.