"Hermione? Oh god. Hermione. Can you hear me?" Blaise. That was Blaise. Had he been sleeping next to her? That wouldn't do. It crossed the very firm line she had drawn a long time ago. She furrowed her brow as she opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but all that came out was a garbled bit of nonsense. She froze. That wasn't right. She knew how to talk. Had learned a long time ago. Had even been told that she should stop talking on at least eighty two separate occasions between the ages of eleven and seventeen. What the hell was going on? Her pounding head was now entirely useless, the scant bit of information she had been able to collect washed away as waves of pain crested in her head, her body. The hand holding Hermione's was shaking and it's owner - Blaise, she reminded herself - coughed out a watery laugh.