"There is something very wrong with you," Hermione replied condescendingly with the expression of someone who had just sucked a lemon. She wasn't expecting him to jump for joy and profusely thank her, he was Draco after all. She’d expected him to be cross with her, and had fully prepared for him to berate her for breaking a few ribs in her attempt to save his life... but now she just felt stupid. She absolutely would not be disclosing how long she’d paced the room without sleeping since they’d arrived, the anxiety of knowing he was in pain because of her. The feeling had sat in her stomach like a rock, curdling and souring, just waiting for him to be lucid enough to know there was no permanent damage. She hadn’t even changed out of her dirty, wet clothing yet. Her yellow rain jacket was slung over a settee under the window. 