"He looks like he is in a lot of pain, sweat is dripping down his forehead," Harry told Ron in the Gryffindor common room, having slipped back from the hospital. "He is even gasping for breath when he is talking."
"Just think about it, thirty-four bones!" Ron said with lingering fear. "That is no joke."
Hermione was flipping through Moste Potente Potions by the fireplace, pretending not to care about Draco's injuries.
However, upon hearing Harry's words, she could not help but drift off into a daze.
Is he all right? He must be in a lot of pain.
The thought that he had broken so many bones made her heart ache.
That damned, mad, rogue Bludger! Hermione frowned at the fire.
From the stands, she kept watching him through the new Omnioculars Draco had given her.
He clearly noticed the danger behind him; he saw that wildly moving Bludger!
But he still went to catch that damned Golden Snitch without hesitation!
He risked his life playing Quidditch, and everyone should know that. Those gossipy Hufflepuffs should know, those Slytherin players should know, and the entire school should seriously understand that!
It should not be just her who knows. She already knew how talented he was at flying—he taught her to fly in just a few "private lessons."
Draco, as a Seeker in Slytherin, could withstand any test.
Then, Hermione watched him fall from the sky. In that moment, whether he was an evil Slytherin, the heir to the Chamber of Secrets... all her concerns vanished from her mind.
She had only one thought in her mind: to save him.
But she did not know how to save him.
Hermione Granger, you do not know enough spells! she thought desperately.
Fortunately, someone in the audience reacted quickly and cast a spell, slowing his descent.
Otherwise, oh my goodness, he might die!
Even so, he lay motionless and silent on the pitch.
Amidst the startled screams of the girls around her, she pursed her lips and hurriedly rushed off the stands, annoyed by her own utter uselessness. Many Slytherin students were also running down the stairs.
Harry was faster than everyone else. He landed on the ground first and bent down to check on Draco's injuries.
Then, that damned rogue Bludger came rushing over, and now it was even trying to attack them!
Hermione pulled out her wand and, amidst everyone's gasps, blasted the rogue Bludger to smithereens without hesitation—regardless of whether Madam Hooch would later angrily deduct fifty points from her marks.
It is all its fault!
Also, Hermione Granger wanted to reiterate one thing: boys who liked Quidditch were mad!
"Why did you not stop the match?" Hermione, amidst the growing crowd of Slytherin students, turned angrily to Harry, her eyes fixed on his pale and lifeless face, and demanded, "Why did you have to catch the Golden Snitch?"
"We were not thinking that much about it," Harry said dejectedly. "We were just focused on catching the Snitch as quickly as possible, and Draco felt the same way—"
"You two are mad!" she suddenly shouted as she looked at Pansy Parkinson approaching, shoving and pushing aside the Slytherin students before storming off in a huff.
"Watch out!" Pansy Parkinson said irritably from the crowd. "Blaise, are you pulling my hair?"
"Why would I pull your hair?" Blaise Zabini glanced at her, then simply stretched out his arm to shield her behind him. "Can you not be a little more careful? Why do you have to get stuck in the middle of things?"
"I want to see Draco, see how he is!" Parkinson yelled dramatically. "Crabbe, Goyle, get out of my way…get out of my way!"
"Get out of my way, all of you!" Marcus Flint rushed over, shoving aside the younger students—regardless of whether they would stumble—and shouted furiously, "Peregrine, Adrian, get him to the Hospital Wing now, before Lockhart comes looking for trouble! Hurry up!"
Forget it, there is no point in staying here, Hermione thought dejectedly as she walked away.
He has plenty of Slytherin friends who care about him, does he not? They are all children from wizarding families, "more qualified" to learn magic than I am.
Even without me, there would be others willing to blow up the rogue Bludger for him. Hermione sighed, clenched her fist, and walked faster.
That evening, Harry said he was going to see Draco. She should have been indifferent, but instead, she waited by the fireplace, repeatedly telling Ron, "No, I do not want to worry about Draco. I have not finished reading Moste Potente Potions yet!"
"Come on! Were you not bragging to us the other day that you knew it by heart?" Ron grumbled. "Why are all the girls so stubborn? Ginny too, she will not say a word as long as Harry is around..."
She did not answer, staring at the fireplace fire.
The flickering flames waited patiently until all the students except the two of them yawned and went upstairs, until Harry's figure appeared before them through the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"He is asleep again." Just then, she heard Harry say to Ron, "Madam Pomfrey gave him another dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion."
"Merlin, one dose of medicine is not enough?" Ron clicked his tongue. "You cannot drink too much of that stuff."
"What can we do? Even when he is asleep, he is groaning in pain," Harry said anxiously. "Hermione, could you come here for a second? I need to ask you something…"
Hermione was extremely worried.
She seemed somewhat distracted as Harry described the Basilisk. She was also a little absent-minded when Harry mentioned the secrets of Parseltongue—she had long suspected it—which did not particularly surprise her. As for the events of tonight's "Colin Creevey incident," although they greatly shocked her, she began to drift off into a daze again after the initial shock.
She was thinking about the boy who was still suffering terribly in his sleep.
Lying on the four-poster bed in the dormitory, she did not close her eyes for a long time.
She kept thinking about how those bones could regenerate overnight. Did this mean that the Muggle world would have to endure three months of suffering, all of which would be inflicted on him overnight?
She tossed and turned, her inner peace gradually eroded by the piled-up painful imaginings, and finally decided to abandon Cold War thinking.
"I will go to the Hospital Wing to see him tomorrow," she promised herself, before finally falling asleep peacefully.