The walk back to her dorms was rapid, her feet directing her through secret passages - trying their hardest to lead her back to safety as quickly and soundly as possible. They were still there, behind her, lurking in the shadows, watching her. She could feel them, these crimson eyes that hunted her dreams. The fear of closing her eyes and seeing them, right there eating her alive with a simple gaze, had been the cause of many sleepless nights. Yet only now did she feel watched outside of her dreams, followed relentlessly everywhere she went. Sometimes when there was no noise Hermione could distinctively hear foreign breathing, shrilling her blood while she rushed down the hallways back to safety. Being surrounded by wizards and witches could have helped, yet their overbearing attention and curious gazes thrown her way only unsettled her, making her feel unwanted everywhere she went. No matter the words she uttered while justifying her peculiar mental state, Hermione knew that she wasn't just lying to everyone but to herself too.

As she reached the Fat Lady and spoke the password she noticed the curious way she was watching the witch, her head tilting to her left as she appeared to analyse her. She swore she heard her say "poor girl" as she stepped inside the Gryffindor common room, her focus on the stairs leading to her room, paying no attention to the sudden silence her presence had caused, everyone halting their conversation to watch the witch strolling towards the stairs. Clenching her teeth with such strength, Hermione ignored the whispers and insistent glares as she lifted her legs through each stare.

Signing in pure relief when her hand came into contact with the cold metallic handle of the door, she pushed it open before leaning her back against it, allowing her weight to drag her down onto the floor. Looking up at the clock she noticed it had reached six in the evening, and silently she awaited the itch that nestled under her skin once the six bells from the tall clock ended. As expected once the last melody of the clock rang, Hermione could feel her body quake on the floor, her fingers instantly scratching any exposed skin, her long nails digging painfully into her flesh, relieving the ache. Crawling like a wounded animal towards the bathroom door Hermione mumbled a few spells that enabled the door to open and her clothes to vanish instantly all the while the water in the shower started to run - ready for her.

The cooling sensation of the cold tiles only made her cry in pain. Extended her hands towards the nearest furniture she helped herself back into her feet and staggered towards the boiling water awaiting her. Her body now covered with red strips, some bloodied while others were accompanied with the distinctive trace of her nails, Hermione moaned in relief when they came into contact with the water.

That's what she was condemned to do from the instant she woken up, relief those aches by taking the most marvellous of showers.

"Did you see her?" Asked Ron as he looked back at his raven-haired friend once Hermione had disappeared back in her room, "I'm worried mate what if Patil wasn't lying?"

"Remember what the time turner said? What if she did come back from Hell?"

"Harry I was just making an assumption! Maybe she was stuck in limbo but not quite literally."

"Soul lost in an eternal time of misery", he mumbled, remembering the discovery they had made in Snape's office, "you said it yourself Ronald, maybe it was about our Hermione all along! She isn't the same since she'd woken up!"

"You do realize what you're saying Harry, right? That Hermione went to Hell and back..." he paused, considering his own words. He couldn't control the frightened shiver that consumed him, imagining what hell could be like. "Either way we seem to not be enough! Ginny told me that at night she's crying in her sleep, calling after someone. We know who's it is mate, maybe we were wrong. Snape needs to be with her, that's the only way he can protect her."

"But what the story repeats itself? Seraphina is confined in a secluded cell somewhere in the castle, but the other person is still out there!"

Standing up, Ron walked towards the fireplace before sitting in front of it, watching the way the flames battled against the wind in an infernal tango. "She's keeping things from us Harry, and if what Pavarti said is the truth then we need all the help we can get."

"And we will, I'm just afraid that if she does fall in love with him the story will repeat itself! Snape couldn't get all the truth out of the older Hermione from the beginning, what if there are pieces of crucial information he missed!" Said the chosen one as he joined his friend - wand securely wrapped around his fingers - before pointing it and the flames, extinguishing them. "We should go to the restricted section and see what we can find on souls and..."

"...Hell," continued Ron, his eyes focused on the now extinguished fire. "I feel like I'm about to explode! The Sybila Inferni, Hermione Knowledge on one of the dangerous spells and now our 'Mione holiday in Hell."

Scoffing at his analogy Hardy nudged his side, "let's hope there no damage to her soul."

"Bloody hell."

"Quite literally yes."

"Shut up Harry!"