Never Lose Hope by star22

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 16/12/2003
Last Updated: 16/12/2003
Status: In Progress

Harry is captured by Voldemort and is in his clutches for six years. Hermione has realized her
feelings for him, but thinks he is dead. Will he survive? If he does, will things be the way they
used to be? Will Harry and Hermione have a chance? Find out.




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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very withdrawn and worried about something.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.



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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.



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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.



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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.



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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.



6. untitled
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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.



7. untitled
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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.