He looked down the hallway in each direction and still saw no one, and made his weak limbs propel him in the direction of Hermione's room, just down the hall. It hurt to move and it took him an unreasonable amount of time to make it the ten metres down the hallway, but then he was at her door, clinging to the wall, feeling drunk and probably looking it too, he imagined as he shoved the door open. And there she was, and a rattling breath escaped him, the relief that swept him up overwhelming. She looked up from the bed where she lay curled in a ball on top of the covers in a tank top and pyjama trousers, looking exhausted but wonderfully alive.