...hook his head. “Maybe that’s all.” He muttered. Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “Possibly.” From a pocket in her robes she pulled a small pin. “Give me your hand. If the potion works, this won’t hurt a bit.
Harry was glad she was testing him with only a pin and willingly stuck out his hand. Hermione jabbed the pin onto his finger. The metal sank straight into his flesh and Harry yanked back his hand, yelling in surprise and agony. He gripped his hand tightly and slowly worked the needle out. Hermione pulled a tissue out of her robes and handed it to him. Harry wrapped it around his wound, blood stained it rapidly. He turned to Hermione and scowled. “I thought you said I’d be fine.” He yelled. Hermione looked shocked and depressed. “I thought I had it right. I really did. The potion should have worked. It should have.”
Harry forgot his anger and sat on the bed beside her. It wasn’t often that Hermione was wrong, in fact this was probably the first time he could remember. It must be hard on her.
He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. But a shot of pain across his chest made him pull back. Harry cringed and grabbed his chest. It felt like his heart was on fire. Hermione noticed the pain and forgot her mood. “Harry, what’s wrong?” Harry opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was an agonised cry as his chest felt like a truck hit it. He fell back onto the bed, his entir...