The Healer's scowl morphed into shock. "Miss Granger." He swallowed and looked around, as if for assistance. "You shouldn't be here. We're dealing with overflow from the third floor—"

"I want to help."

She meant it, she realized.

He seemed to assess her. "That won't be necessary. Perhaps I can call a mediwitch for you?"

Frowning, she shook her head. "I'm quite alright, really. I don't require any assistance."

"Then I'll escort you back to your room."

Before he could move, a man just behind him shot up straight on his gurney and began gurgling, foaming at the mouth. The Healer spun on his heel and sprinted to him.

Stumbling backward, Hermione hurried back the way she came. Her head felt light, the images burning behind her eyelids. When she turned a corner, she braced herself against a wall.

She couldn't help them — she had no wand. And even if she did, the Healers didn't want her help. Given the injuries she'd just seen, she couldn't blame them. Her rudimentary Healing skills might be a liability.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione zeroed in on her most pressing problem. She needed to leave St. Mungo's and get to Malfoy Manor. There had to be someone else who could help discharge her.

The noise grew dimmer as she found her room again. She moved past it, finding more doors with small windows like hers. Around the next corner, another corridor — the first door on the left cracked open. Hermione peered inside it, and gasped.

Oliver Wood lay on the bed in a hospital robe. She slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

He was curled away from the door, staring out his window.

"Oliver?" She struggled to keep her voice even. "It's me, Hermione."

His shoulder twitched once. Turning over, he sat up and looked at her blankly. "Hi."

Her legs felt as heavy as lead as she stared back at him. If Oliver was here, then Theo had to be in Azkaban with the others. Her temple began throbbing again.

She should have acted sooner. Should have insisted that Draco give Oliver's antidote to Theo the day they went to Grimmauld Place. Maybe they could have run together.

Blinking, she forced a smile and moved around his bed, taking the chair just next to him. "Are you alright? Are you—" Her eyes flicked over him quickly. "Are you injured?"

A scathing laugh puffed out of him. He shook his head.

Guilt bubbled and pricked at her, twisting in her gut. "I'm sorry, Oliver. I wish I'd worked more quickly for you and Theo."

Silence.

Her hand shook as it reached for his. "I'm going to clear their names, Oliver. Draco and Theo both. I'm going to make sure the True Order knows how Theo helped me with the tattoos. And everything he did to protect you." She squeezed his fingers. "I'm not sure how long it will take, but I will get him out of Azkaban. I swear to you."