Dreamless Sleep was highly addictive, and Hermione would not normally ask, but
without her friends and family here to help her through the night, she thought it would be
better. The last thing she needed was to scare the daylights out of Madam Pomfrey by
screaming herself awake. "I am. It's best for everyone if I take it. I've... I've been known
to cause a stir in my sleep."
"I'm not opposed to dealing with a few nightmares, dear."
Hermione sighed irritably, knowing that the woman was just doing her job, but she
was not in the mood to argue. Reaching her right arm across her torso, she tugged at the
sleeve of her dress and began rolling it up her arm, revealing the deep, purple scars that
covered her flesh.
Mudblood.
Madam Pomfrey gasped, and her eyes widened. She looked up and met Hermione's
calm gaze, and, without another word, she dipped her chin, reached into the storage
cupboard, and handed the purple potion over.
Hermione gave her a grateful nod and tugged on the cork, downing the bottle in a
single swig, the familiar liquid sliding down her throat. She then took the De-Ageing Potion
and swallowed every last drop. Squeezing her eyes shut and willing her tears to retreat, she
turned and settled herself on the pillow as the Dreamless Sleep overtook her.
August 2, 1971Hermione slept just a few hours, but she did not dream. She had no nightmares of
Bellatrix Lestrange torturing her, no flashing images of Padfoot bound and thrown over
the back of Fenrir Greyback or of herself being splinched, no thoughts of Harry lying dead
on the ground of the Forbidden Forest or of Sirius and Remus being tortured.
Nor did she dream of home.
When she finally opened her eyes, she felt different. Sitting up, it was still dark, and
she briefly wondered if she had not fallen asleep for more than a few moments. She was
shocked when her dress got caught underneath her as she moved. Looking down, she
realised her clothing was several sizes too large.