Never Lose Hope

Hermione Granger stared out of the window in her flat, trying to keep from crying. She spent far too much time crying. She cried whenever she thought of Harry, the man she loved, the man who had been missing for six years; the man who was almost certainly dead. She had never really been happy since he had been captured, partly because of her love for him, and partly because she blamed herself. Actually, everyone blamed themselves. They all thought that they should have listened to him more. They all had known that something was up, but they had not pushed hard enough, at least in their opinions.

Hermione had thought it strange when Harry had asked her to find information on the Hogwarts shields and to give him any books containing information on other such powerful shields. They were seventh years and their year had just started. It was unlike Harry to ask about information of this kind. Sure, he did not mind hard work. However, he rarely asked for information that he would not need. She had asked Harry, and he had brushed her off. She had left it at that, not wanting to hurt him. That was when Harry had started to change. He only showed up for classes. He was not doing well in any of them. He rarely did homework. At meals, he would grab something quick, and then rush off to the library. He was always studying. Everyone noticed it. People asked, but most suspected that it had something to do with the war. Hermione and Ron believed that same thing. After all, he had told them the prophecy, and they thought that he was training. She had noticed that he seemed very withdrawn and worried about something. He seemed very focused and hardly had time for them anymore. She and Ron had been hurt, and had started to ignore him. It was during this time that she finally realized the truth. She had feelings for him, feelings that she had at least since fifth year. She had fallen hard for her best friend. She tried to ignore it, but it just would not go away, no matter how hard she tried to get away from it. As the year progressed, Harry grew more and more distant, and Hermione’s feelings continued to grow. No one suspected what was about to happen.

Hogwarts had become the safe haven for the ministry. The shields at Hogwarts were the strongest. Meetings could safely take place, and plans could be made. Everyone knew that if Hogwarts fell, the wizarding world would fall much faster. They needed Hogwarts. Voldemort certainly was not stupid. He knew this as well. He knew that if he could get Hogwarts, he had a much better chance of winning the war.

The death eater attack came as a surprise to all but Harry. They attacked during the last week of school. Somehow, the shields had fallen. However, just as quickly, they came up. Something else unexpected happened. A second shield had formed around the death eaters, trapping all but Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, Wormtail, and Voldemort. The aurors had quickly rushed in. Voldemort had disappeared with his three remaining death eaters. In the aftermath, Hermione was the first to notice that Harry had disappeared. They searched everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found.

Harry, as Head Boy, had his own room. When it was searched, a stack of books were found, and a note. The note explained everything. Harry had had a vision at the beginning of the year. He had seen that Voldemort had discovered how to break the Hogwarts shield. Even if Harry had told someone, no one could have put up the shield again because of Voldemort’s method of removing it. Harry had spent all year researching. He knew that he was the most powerful wizard, even more so than Voldemort and Dumbledore. He had no where near the knowledge they had, but in terms of sheer power, they could not match him. In his research and the information that Hermione gave him, he discovered a few incantations, spells, and potions that when combined would not only restore the shields, but would set up another one that would capture the death eaters. However, the combination needed extreme power. That is why no one had ever used them. No one but Harry had enough power. There was one slight problem. Harry had to be on the outside of the shields in order to make them. That meant that he was vulnerable and that Voldemort could capture him. Voldemort was also not stupid. He would know that Harry was the one who had done it.

Hermione shuddered. She did not even want to think about what had been done to Harry. She was sure he was dead, but she knew his death must have been extremely painful. How could anyone be so brave and selfless? It only made her fall harder for him. He gave up everything to save them all. She thought about him every day. She knew it was selfish to want him to be alive, as that would mean more pain for him, but she could not help it. Everyone told her that it was time to move on, but she could not. She loved him, she knew that now. Even Ron had given up hope. Ron had tried to ask her out, but quickly realized that her heart was Harry’s. He had married Luna Lovegood, and they had twin sons named Harry and James. She knew that was Ron’s way of remembering his best friend, but for her it was not enough. She wished that they at least had a body. At least then they would know. She wondered if he was truly dead. As her thoughts of her lost love saddened her, far away a young man was comforted by thoughts of his love.

The second chapter and we get to see Harry being tortured. I cannot believe that I wrote this. Spooked myself out. Anyways, there is torture in this chapter. Not super graphic, but sort of.

Harry Potter smiled as his eyes slowly opened from his dream. He had been in the common room, sitting by the fire with Hermione in his arms. They had been laughing about something, and they both were so happy. He was only that happy in dreams. He did not want to wake up and come back to reality. His reality was a cold, painful, miserable hell. Every waking moment was torture, literally. He shuddered as he thought of all the things that Voldemort had done to him. The only reason that he was still sane was because of the countless spells put on him to keep him sane. Voldemort wanted him aware of everything that was being done to him. The Dark Lord had used both magical and muggle means of torture. He had put a spell on Harry that kept his voice working, so that he could hear his screams. He seemed to take pleasure in every cry of anguish that came from Harry’s mouth.

Since he did not have an army to conquer Europe with, he spent most of his time concentrating on hurting the person who was the reason for this predicament. Harry Potter had gotten in his way time and time again, but this last time was the final straw. No one had ever done as much as Harry had done. At least the first time, it was not really him, but his mother. This time, Harry had known exactly what he was doing and what the probable cost would be. That Harry knew what would happen to him somehow made it worse. No one had ever dared to do what Harry had done. No one had the courage and selflessness that Potter did. Harry shuddered again. He would have thought that Voldemort would have killed him by now, but he was not that lucky. Voldemort was still just as angry as he had been six years ago. He did not let anyone else touch Harry. He was the only one. He spent all day torturing Harry and gave Harry the night off to recuperate, only to begin again the next day. To Harry, every minute, every second, seemed to drag on for an eternity. He had lost all sense of time. His glasses had been broken, so he could not see very well. Voldemort had made sure that his eyes worked at least partly so he could see what was being done to him.

Harry looked around the room he was in. The cell was fairly small. Their was nothing in their except a chamber pot, the chains that hung from the wall and attached to the collar on Harry’s neck, and the green plush arm chair that seemed totally out of place in the room. Of course that was for Voldemort. Harry could not reach it to sit. He had to be content with leaning against the wall, which was incredibly painful on his back. Most of the time he lay on the floor, as his front was not as damaged as his back. Blood stains were everywhere, most of it Harry’s, though not all of it. Whenever Voldemort or his remaining death eaters managed to capture someone, he made Harry watch while they were tortured or killed. He knew that this would almost affect Harry more than being tortured himself because of his selflessness. Harry hated to watch others suffer. Yet as time past, he almost would rather others suffer than him. He hated himself for it, but he was absolutely miserable. He had one thing he could now say about himself. He was very resistant to pain. The crutacious had not hurt him as much as it used to when Voldemort had put him under it after capturing him. Yet it still hurt, and its effects just compounded over time, especially with the other torture. Harry did not know how he could stand it. He was barely holding on.

Harry stiffened and sat up quickly as he heard footsteps coming down the hall. He stopped to steady himself. His eardrums were slightly punctured so that he could still hear, but it was very painful and he had little sense of balance. He knew that those steps must be Voldemort, as the Dark Lord was the only one who came here in the morning. Wormtail fed Harry every third night. That was the only meal Harry got, and it was a small one at that. Harry was now mostly skin and bone. He was covered in healing cuts, scars, open wounds, and blood. He was black and blue on nearly every part of his body. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin that was not damaged was extremely pail.

Voldemort slammed open the door and smirked at his prey. “What shall we do today, Mr. Potter? A round of crutacious first, I think. Crucio!”

Harry fell to the ground and lay there shrieking in pain. His whole body twisted and shook as he writhed on the ground in absolute agony. Voldemort kept the curse on him for a couple of hours, sitting in the chair, watching and listening to the young man’s agony. When it was over, Harry pulled himself up to a sitting position, even though every part of him screamed at the effort. He would not give in. He would not show vulnerability. His will was all that he had left, and he would not lose it. Voldemort smirked at Harry and put the curse on again. When he was finally done, five hours had past, and Harry was in pure agony. He did not care if he lived or died. When it was over, Voldemort stood and walked over to Harry. He yanked on his collar, pulled him up, and slammed against the wall. Harry winced as the wall hit his back. Voldemort spun him around and shackled his hands above his head, before ripping off his shirt. Then he yanked out a knife and dug it across Harry’s already raw back. He held out his hand and let the blood drip onto it, all the while whispering taunts into Harry’s ear. Over and over the cold sharp metal dragged across Harry’s back. Harry shuddered and moaned, trying to keep himself from screaming. Voldemort’s cruel laughter echoed through the room. When he was through, he dropped the knife on the floor and gazed at Harry with a cold smile on his face. Then he grabbed Harry’s hand and proceeded to snap his already broken fingers. Harry shook with pain, trying to keep his agony off his face, and not really succeeding. Voldemort laughed again and stepped back to his chair. When he was seated, he pointed his wand at Harry and put him under the pain spell again. Hour after hour past. When that was over, Harry was again chained to the wall. Voldemort took out a whip that was tipped with pieces of glass and proceeded to beat Harry with it. This time Harry could not keep himself from screaming as the glass dug into his raw back. He howled, trying to think of anything but the pain. When it was over, he slumped to the ground. He was not allowed a respite, as the crutacious was again put on him. Harry lost all sense of anything but his pain. He could not turn his thoughts to anything else.

When the day was over, Voldemort healed Harry’s cuts enough so he would not bleed to death, then left. Harry slumped onto the ground, thoroughly exhausted. However, as usual, he had trouble getting to sleep. Pain will do that to you. He was sure that was why Voldemort was willing to give him nine hours to sleep. Voldemort knew that he was probably only sleeping for about six or seven hours of it. Harry shifted, trying to get as comfortable as he possible could. When at last he fell asleep, his dreams again were of Hermione. In his dreams, he was in love with her. When he was awake, he had little time to think on it, but he knew that he was. It had happened sometime during fifth year, he was not sure when. It had taken him a long time to realize it. By the time he had, it was too late. He knew that he would never see her again. He hoped she was happy. He hoped that she had fallen for someone and was happily married, working as an auror, her dream job. He wished he was with her, but he hoped she had moved on. He selfishly hoped that she had loved him at some time, but he doubted it. Why would she love him? He had come to hate himself. Partly because of his usual self guilt, and partly because of Voldemort’s taunts. He felt so guilty for everything. He did not deserve his friends, and he certainly did not deserve Hermione. Yet, in his dreams, he was with her. These dreams kept him going, even when things were at their worst. Hermione was his light, his hope. Thoughts of her kept him from losing all hope. As long as she was alive, he could be at least partly happy.

This chapter has some more torture and has some death in it. Parts are very disturbing. Only read if you do not mind blood and torture. I really scared myself writing this. This chapter will probably be the most graphic.

Harry opened his eyes and moaned. Another day in hell. There was no other word to describe this place, and Voldemort was certainly enough of a devil. He looked up and stared into the blazing red eyes above him that somehow managed to seem both fiery and icy at the same time. Voldemort gave his trademark smirk and yanked Harry to his feet. He chained him to the wall before putting him under the crutacious again. He stood their, staring at the screaming figure of the boy he hated so much, clearly enjoying himself. When it was over, Harry slumped, not able to fall to the ground. Then Voldemort turned toward the door, calling over his shoulder.

“Well, Mr. Potter, we have something special planned for today. Lucius and Bellatrix have managed to capture two people who I am sure you are dying to see.” With that, he opened the door, and Arthur and Molly Weasley were shoved in by an unseen hand. Harry gasped in shock and leaned against the wall, moaning. “Well, I’ll let you three say your goodbyes then,” Voldemort smirked. Then he swept out of the room.

Molly and Arthur walked over to Harry and put their arms around him. He winced and shrank back. They gazed at him with pity and pain reflecting in their eyes.

“Oh, Harry, what has he done to you,” Molly asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle. It's you that I am worried about you,” Harry whispered.

“Harry! We are all right. You look awful. How did you survive this long? Why did you do it?” Molly exclaimed.

“I don’t know why I survived. And I did it for my friends, for Hogwarts, and for the wizarding world. How could I stand by and let it all be destroyed?” Harry replied softly. He struggled to keep from losing it, but finally he broke down and began to sob. Molly and Arthur both held him as he sobbed on their shoulders. When he finally stopped, he looked up at them. “I am so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Harry, it’s not your fault, its Voldemort’s. We are not afraid to die. It will be all right,” Arthur replied. He and Molly smiled bravely at Harry as Voldemort sauntered back into the room.

“Well, are you two ready to die for the decisions Potter made?”

“It you who is to blame, not Harry. Know this, Voldemort. Its over. You will never win,” Arthur bravely replied.

“Oh really, Weasley. I think not. I am already starting to get my army back. I will win in the end. It is only a matter of time. No one can defeat me. It may take a while, but I will triumph. As for you two, either way you will not be around to see what happens,” Voldemort laughed coldly.

Voldemort yanked out a sharp knife, grabbed both their wrists, and slashed them. Harry gasped as the two of them shrieked in shock. Then Voldemort dropped them to the ground and walked out. Harry yanked at the shackles on his wrists, trying desperately to get free. Arthur and Molly were moaning on the ground as their blood flowed onto the ground. Harry watched as the two Weasley parents slowly bled to death, all the while struggling desperately to get free. Voldemort returned to unshackle Harry only after the two were dead. Then he walked out again.

Harry lay on the ground sobbing. He could barely breathe from the pain. Arthur and Molly had been like parents to him. He loved them so much. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, knowing that he could not watch any more death. He turned and slammed his head against the shackles on the wall over and over again. When his head was a mass of blood, he finally collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

This is the last torture chapter, I promise. It is also slightly less disturbing than the last one.

Harry Potter winced as he left the dream world to the real one with someone kicking him in the stomach. He looked around for a minute, confused. He could not see anything. His confusion lasted for a few seconds until everything that had happened came back to him in a rush. He swore under his breath the mental pain easily outweighing the physical. Arthur and Molly, the people he thought of as his substitute parents, were dead. His mind just could not come to grips with it. His thoughts raged on and on. He could barely focus. Someone hit him on the side of the head, but he did not respond. Pain flashed through his body, roughly bringing him back to some sense of sanity.

“Well, Potter, it seems you have managed to lose your sight. However, that will not stop the pain, I can assure you. I know you were trying to kill yourself, but there was no way I would let that happen. I am not quite through with you yet. You cost me my victory, and for that you will be paying for a long time yet. Oh, I will kill you, but not for a long, long time.” Voldemort’s voice came from somewhere above him.

“Drop dead, snake face! You are such a coward!” Harry said as loudly as he could. Instantly the pain hit him again, and it was a long time before it left.

Meanwhile…

Back at Hogwarts, Hermione was asleep. She tossed and turned and could not get the restful sleep she really needed. Suddenly, she was somewhere else. It was not a dream, or at least it did not seem like one. It was too clear, and her senses seemed to be working perfectly. She could smell blood and saw that it was everywhere. A tall, black robed figure stood at the side, wand pointed with green light coming out of it. She stepped around to see what the wand was pointed at. There was Harry! He was covered in blood. She could tell it was recent because he had aged just as she had. She could not see him clearly, but she somehow knew that it was him. She tried to walk over to him, but the scene began to fade away. She yelled at him, but soon the room was gone, and she was lying awake on her bed.

The next morning, she raced over to the flat that Ron shared with his wife and kids. She pounded on the door, demanding to be let in. Inside, she saw Ginny and her new husband, Neville. All of those gathered looked worried. She looked inquisitively at Ginny.

“Mum and Dad have gone missing. No one knows where they are,” Ginny said.

“What! Where did they go?”

“Someone broke into the burrow and captured them. The dark mark was over it,” Ron cut in.

“Why are you here?” Neville asked.

“Harry’s alive!” She exclaimed, “We have to go rescue him.”

“Alive! Wow, poor Harry.” Neville whispered.

“I know. That is why we must get him now!”

“Hermione,” Ron said, “that is crazy talk. How will we find him? How could we rescue him?”

“I don’t know, but I have to try. Ron, there is something I never told you, something I never told anyone. I have been in love with Harry since fifth year. I never let him know, and now it might be too late. I cannot bear the thought of him suffering. He gave his life to save the entire wizarding world. The least we can do is to give ours to save him.”

“Wow, Hermione. Usually it is us coming up with the crazy schemes, and you talking sense into us. I guess you are right. It is the least we can do. Let’s do it. Just the five of us, though. We should not get anyone else involved. Let’s just sneak around, see what we can find out. If we find something, then we will go for it. I say we should check Knockturn Alley first. However, we need to be in disguise so that no one will recognize us.” Ron replied.

“Thanks Ron! You are brilliant at strategies. We really need you.”

Ron grinned at her. The five of them all sat and began to plan.

Three weeks later, they entered Knockturn Alley. They all were disguised and wore black hooded robes that completely covered them. They walked down the alley, trying to look inconspicuous. They walked up to a dimly lit restaurant and were just about to step in. Suddenly, they were grabbed from behind. They felt a pop as those who held them apperated somewhere. They found themselves in a room decorated in Slytherin colors that only had very dim lighting.

“What is with Slytherins and bad lighting? You’d think that they would end up so bruised from walking into things that they could never conquer anything,” Ron whispered to his companions. Luna snorted at his joke like she did for all of his. She was the only one who seemed to truly get his humor.

“Welcome to hell,” a cold cruel voice said from the doorway, “or, at least, that is what Mr. Potter calls it.” Voldemort was standing in the doorway, smirking at his new prey. “I see that you five were trying to rescue Harry. Of course, I knew this. I heard Potter muttering Granger’s name in his sleep and figured they were close. I sent you the dream so that you would try to find him. I have decided that I am tired of playing with Harry and so it is time to kill him. However, first I want him to hear the screams of his closest friends as I kill him. Pity he destroyed his eyes so that he cannot see it as well, but I guess we cannot have everything.”

Hermione gasped at hearing that Harry said her name then moaned. The thought of what Harry must have been through made her ill. The others were almost as shocked. Wormtail grabbed them and dragged them down the hall as Voldemort followed. As they were shoved into a small cell, a body in the corner looked up. It was Harry!

Hermione ran over to him and knelt at his side. Harry leaned against her. Somehow, he knew who she was. He shuddered and reached out to touch her. They held each other, somehow comforting the other.

“Well, well, well. Seems that Miss Granger means more to you than you let on, Potter. You did not tell me you were in love. This is going to be so much fun.” Voldemort pointed his wand at Hermione and put her under the crutacious. She fell beside Harry, shaking and shrieking in pain. Voldemort held her under it for half an hour. Then he turned to the others, and put them under it each in turn. When that was finished, he turned back to Hermione and Harry. “Well, I think it is time to finish this. Granger first, I think. Let’s see, how will we kill her? Very slowly, I believe.”

Voldemort pointed his wand at her. As he did, something in Harry snapped. He would not let Hermione die. He would do anything for her, anything. As he looked at her, something happened. Something connected between them. Harry could feel her thoughts and her power. He now knew what he had to do. He reached in and focused her power through him, adding it to his own. As Voldemort muttered the spell, Harry spun at him. Red and gold light spun off his fingers towards Voldemort. As the light hit him, he shattered as if made of glass. Then, it was over. The spell was still coming. Without thinking, Harry jumped in front of it, pushing Hermione out of the way. He fell backwards, hit the ground, and let the darkness claim him.

Hermione paced the hospital room, her thoughts racing frantically. They were all centered on Harry who lay in a coma on a bed near her. He had been unconscious for almost three years now. His body was so injured that his mind had shut down to escape the pain. The doctors all said that he would probably never wake up. They only kept him under the life-supporting spells because of who he was and what he had done for them. They felt guilty about taking him off them, but did not have any hope for his survival. Hermione knew that he would come out of it. She just knew. She needed him. He would wake up. He had to. She did not know what she would do if he did not. She knew that he was still there, buried somewhere inside his damaged body. She could feel him, though she did not know why. Something had happened back in the cell, something had connected them. Dumbledore had explained that Harry had a power, the power of love. His mothers sacrifice had strengthened that power. This power would unite him and his true love after they both realized it, when they were in the same room and in desperate need of help. Now the two of them would share their minds and power. They could use each others power and would know everything the other was thinking. Even now, with Harry buried so deep, she could feel most of his thoughts. He was not really there. He was in his own vivid fantasy world that she could not enter. He was oblivious to the world around him, far from reality. Yet, he was happy. His joy leaked out of him and into her mind. He was where he wanted to be, safe from pain and from memories. She sighed and gazed down at her best friend, the man that she had fallen in love with.

“Oh Harry, I know you are happy. You deserve to be happy. I know it is selfish to want you here with me. Harry, I lived six years without you, and they were the worst years of my life. I know it was nothing close to what you’ve experienced. I don’t want to think about what you went through. Oh Harry, I love you so much. Each day without you seems to last forever. I know that you are in there. That almost makes it worse. At least if you died, I would know. There would be closure. Oh Harry, I need you so much. Please come back to us, to me. I was a fool to not see what was right in front of me. You were there all along. I just never realized what I felt until it was too late and you were gone. Come back Harry. I know you love me too. I can feel it; I felt it. My love, I don’t know if I can live without you, and I don’t even want to think about trying. Harry, my Harry, please come home.”

Hermione walked over to Harry and sat next to him, putting her hand on him, letting him know that she was not leaving. She did not notice one of the doctors enter with Ron, Luna, Ginny, and Neville. They stood at the side, looking at her and whispering to themselves.

“She hasn’t left at all, has she?” Neville asked quietly.

“No,” the doctor replied, “we had to put a bed in here right next to his before she would even think about sleeping. She spends every minute in this room. We bring her food, but she hardly eats. She is wasting away.”

“What can we do?” Ginny asked.

“I don’t know. I actually think that she is helping them. There is a connection between their minds that I cannot explain. He seems to be better when she is near him. He can sense her presence, and it comforts him,” the doctor replied.

“Yes, there is a connection. I am not sure I get it myself, though Dumbledore tried to explain it. She is what he needs, and she needs him. I hope that she can help him and not lose herself in the process,” Ron said.

“I am not too hopeful right now, but we will see. Just be there for her right now. That is all that you can do.”

Hermione turned as Ron touched her shoulder. He, along with Ginny, Neville, and Luna, joined Hermione at his side. They gazed at Harry, desperately hoping for a miracle.

Harry smiled to himself. He felt so warm and safe. Somewhere in the back of his mind lay a darkness he did not understand. He forced himself to ignore it and concentrate on his joy. He was sitting and talking with his parents. He looked up at his house. He saw his children running around, playing with Sirius in his animigus form. It was Harry’s day off of work. He and his wife alternated days. He worked Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She worked Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. There was always someone to watch the kids on Mondays. There were so many people around. Sirius and Remus, his parents, and all of the Weasleys all took turns caring for his children. They also took care of the children one Saturday a month so that he and Hermione could go on a date.

Harry was thirty-nine years old and was the happiest man alive. He had wonderful family and friends, and the most amazing woman that he had ever met as his wife. Hermione was the light of his life. She brought new joy to him each and every day. She was the same woman he remembered from school, with her bushy hair and brown eyes. She was as brilliant as ever. Both he and she worked as aurors for the ministry. Between work and the children, they both were extremely busy, but they always found time for each other. Yet, something was wrong, though Harry did not know what. Everyone tried to get him to ignore it and he tried. However, there were moments that made him wonder.

When he though about it, his life was very fuzzy. He remembered school, but the last few years of it were hazy. His life from then to about ten years ago was completely blank. He did not remember his wedding. He also had the feeling that some people, specifically his parents and Sirius, should not be there. He got some of the same feeling around Arthur and Molly as well. Plus, there was that darkness, somewhere in the back of his head. Some pain that he was trying to avoid. He had gone to doctors about it, and they had said that he was repressing memories. They said that he should ignore them, as they were probably not important. He found that very strange. Why would a doctor say that memories were not important? It did not make any sense.

Harry jolted as he felt it again, the strange feeling that he got sometimes. The feeling that someone was watching him, someone filled with love. It was a presence, a familiar presence. He needed to find out what it was. He reached out, trying to sense it as he always did. This time, he caught something. Whoever it was in incredible mental pain. He reached out again, trying to comfort them. As he did so, he gasped. He knew that presence. He had only felt it once before, but where? He racked his brain, trying desperately to remember. Suddenly he realized that it was Hermione. That did not make any sense. His Hermione did not feel like that. Still, it was her; that he knew. Then, just like that, the feeling was gone, and he was back sitting in his front yard. His parents looked at him inquisitively, but he pushed them off and went inside.

When Hermione came home, he looked at his wife. Something was wrong, but he could not put his finger on it. Suddenly, he sat up and gasped. He realized that she had not aged since their seventh year. She still looked as she had then. As he realized this, all the pieces began to fall into place. His parents were dead, as was Sirius. Somehow, none of his friends had married but him and Hermione. That was because he did not know who they were in love with. Everything was too perfect. No one but him really had a detailed life, and his was somewhat hazy. He realized that nothing that he saw around him was real. It was all a fantasy that his mind had come up with. As he came to this realization, everything around him started to fade into black. He shivered as everything suddenly turned cold. His memories came flooding back to him and he screamed in anguish as he remembered the hell that he had been through and what he had done.

Hermione gazed out of the window in the hospital room and sobbed. Today was her birthday and all she wanted was to share it with the man she loved. It was now over three years after Harry had been found, and even she had lost hope. She had given up reaching into his mind, as it did not seem to help. She sighed and turned as Ron walked into the room.

“Hermione, it is time to go. Harry is never going to wake up. You need to move on with your life. That is what Harry would have wanted. He is happy. He has escaped that pain. It is time to let him go,” he sadly told her.

“I know Ron, I know. Harry is not dead, but he is not coming out of his coma. I need to get over him. I don’t think I ever will, but I have to try. It is time to get on with my life,” she replied to him.

Ron led her towards the door as she gave one last look at Harry, her friend, her love, her life. She knew that she would never get over him. She would always come and visit him. However, she could not stay in the hospital room forever. She gave on last long gaze at him, and walked out of the room.

When Ron and Hermione were halfway down the hall, they heard an anguished scream. They raced back down the hall and into Harry’s room. Harry was writhing on the bed, screaming.

“He’s waking!” Hermione exclaimed. She raced over to his bed and put her hand on his head. Harry relaxed and opened his eyes. He waved his hand in front of his face in confusion. She realized that he must be blind. The damage to his eyes had been too great to fix them. They looked alright on the outside, but inside they were beyond repair.

Harry looked around him, trying to break past the blackness that covered his sight. As he waved his hand in front of his face, he remembered that he had blinded himself. He moaned as he remembered all the things that he had been through. He wished that he was dead. Everything was his fault. As his guilt spread through his body, threatening to overwhelm him, Hermione’s comforting presence covered him, filling him with her love. He smiled as she wrapped her arms around him. He heard footsteps coming, and the voice of Ron shouting that he was awake. He grinned as he heard his other best friend. Ron came up beside him and placed his arm on his shoulder. Harry tried to stand up, but winced and lay back down again. An unfamiliar male voice told him to take it easy.

Harry shuddered as the guilt and pain pushed up again. Hermione held him tighter, her thoughts speaking more than any words ever could. Harry reached out slowly and touched the woman he loved, sending back into her mind assurance of his love for her. They both smiled, not needing words to know that they would be together for the rest of their lives. Harry knew that it would not be easy. He was still so guilty and in so much pain. He could not see, and he could tell that his right leg was unusable. Yet, she would be there for him. He turned toward her, giving her a look of gratitude. She had waited, never giving up hope of finding him. She had gone looking for him, though she knew the danger involved. He did not know what he had done to deserve her, but she was there. She was his and he was hers. She was his light, just as she had been in his fantasy, but more real then he had ever dreamed of. She was older, yet more beautiful then ever.

“How long has it been since you rescued me?” Harry asked suddenly.

“Three years, one month, five days, fifteen hours, six minutes,” Hermione replied.

“I see that you have been counting the minutes, love,” he smiled.

“Of course I have. Every minute without you was an eternity, my Harry.”

“Wow, only three years. I thought that it had been sixteen.”

“Do not even joke about that. I spent eight years without you. Sixteen is more than I could handle. I hope we never have to be apart again. I am sure that I will die before or just after you. I cannot imagine spending any more time without you,” she replied.

Harry’s friends gathered round him. As news spread of his waking, more and more people came to see him. Each person made him more and more uncomfortable. They were so grateful. Minister Fudge, who was obviously a changed man, said that Harry was to receive the highest award given to any wizard or witch. Harry did not think that he deserved that. He had done what he had to do and because of it had caused many deaths. He tried to ignore his guilt, and Hermione helped, but it remained, gnawing at him. He discovered that he had been right in assessing the damage to his right leg. It was still there but could not support his weight. His left leg was damaged too, and Harry was told he would never walk again. He was given a contraption similar to a muggle wheelchair that allowed him to hover just above the ground, glide up stairs, and even fly.

However, Harry desperately wanted to walk. As time past, depression set in. He relived the six years he had spent with Voldemort over and over again. He and Hermione were engaged, but he wouldn’t let them set a date. He just sat in the room in her flat that she had given him, not leaving. Hermione hated seeing her fiancé like this. She wanted to see his emerald eyes sparkle with joy again, but she did not know how to accomplish it. She had to think of something. She could not bear to see him so unhappy. She and all the Weasley’s and their spouses sat and plotted. They needed and idea.