The days slipped into weeks...

 Hermione found her Defense against the Dark Arts class to be particularly boring...

Hermione didn't know how to react...

 The days slipped by slowly to Hermione, from that point on...

It was later on boxing day, and the girls were both in Ginny’s room experimenting with hairstyles for the upcoming celebration.

It’s, gone? That knife is really gone?

Hermione hurried through the halls, and found that most of the students were still making their way up from the ball.

Hermione was very caught up the next few days preparing for the impending attack.

Hermione awoke with a splitting headache.

"She's still not awake?" Ginny asked Harry, as she slipped into Hermione's hospital room.

"Well, what's wrong with me?"

"How'd you managed to talk them into moving you?" Harry asked.

“So, you’re telling me that Potter wasn’t faking it.” Draco asked, stunned. “He was actually dead?”

Hermione sat on a large wingback chair in the drawing room. She knew that Harry and Draco were just trying to keep her safe, but she hated being treated like an invalid.

Hermione was possibly the only one who noticed the constant presence of an Auror on the premises. Her name was Emily Sherman, and she was a third year trainee. Due to the shortage in the department, she had been deemed competent to protect Hogwarts, something she took extremely seriously. She had introduced herself to Hermione, but from then on had remained distant and alert.

"You don't need to do this." Draco said for the fifth time since they had left the castle.

"Yes, Draco, I do." Hermione insisted, her voice firm. "I want my memories back, even if they're horrible, and this is the only way I can think of to do that."