Hermione was jolted awake by her own dream. Her pillow was drenched in sweat as if she was up all night with a fever. She wiped her chestnut hair out of her eyes to get a clear view of her surroundings. Her heart was beating rapidly but began to calm down when she realised where she was. She was not in a dark, cold forest surrounded by inferi, but in her pleasant, cosy bed which was now damp with sweat. She tried to recall her nightmare as the memory of it began disappearing like water through fingers. All she could remember were skeletal fingers clawing towards her in the hundreds, she was lying helpless on the forest floor, entangled with wet leaves, as the fingernails raked at her. She could see Malfoy in the background orchestrating all of this with his wand like an expert composer. The higher his wand was raised, the greater the inferi sung a tune of complete and utter malice. As they hissed and spat, their white and cloudy eyes bored into Hermione's, entrancing her with thoughts of death. Their wispy, broken hair moved as though it were floating in water with their gaunt faces waiting to engulf her. The moment one got to her was the moment she had awoken, relieved and shaking with chills.