Author's Note: Takes place in the hours following the events in the Department of Mysteries in OotP. Major spoilers.
Part I
Through everything that had happened that day, sleep had refused to come to him. He found himself lying awake on his back, staring at a ceiling that had become far too familiar over the past 5 years. He had spent hours in a daze, looking around the room and being filled with more and more guilt by the second, for he was not alone. All his friends were here. They were here because of him. Here, in the hospital wing.
Surrounded by nothing but silence and stillness.
He rolled his head to the left for first time that whole night. Ron lay asleep in the next bed, numerous bandages visible all over him, covering the marks left by the brain. Cringing at the memory of the brain's relentless attack earlier that evening, he looked away from Ron, and turned his head to the right, toward his other best friend, and his heart ached in guilt as a memory from a few hours ago recurred in his mind…
"How are they, Madame Pomfrey?"
"Miss Lovegood, Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom have all been treated and were escorted back to their dormitories about an hour ago, Headmaster. Mr. Weasley will be fine, but I decided to keep him here tonight for observation. Mr. Potter is also still here, just to be safe."
"And Miss Granger?" the Headmaster had asked quietly, his eyes flicking towards her bed, then to Harry, then back to Madame Pomfrey standing before him. She leaned forward, and lowered her voice, wrongly thinking that Harry could not hear her.
"I've done all I can for now. If she wakes up by . . . maybe tomorrow, she'll be okay. If she doesn't wake up . . . don't want to think about it, sir."
The Headmaster only lowered his head as a brief sign of understanding, and flicked his eyes back toward Harry before turning to leave the wing. Madame Pomfrey made one last check of her patients before extinguishing the lights of the room and leaving the room.
Silence and stillness.
Her words had haunted Harry through the night and into the early hours of the morning. He had rolled onto his side as soon as Madame Pomfrey had left the room, and had been watching his best friend since then. For hours he had studied her and watched for any sign that she was awakening. And for hours, every second he waited had been filled with increasing fear for his friend's life.
What if she doesn't wake up? He wondered, a sick feeling overcoming him. She has to be okay, he told himself. She can't die . . .
He sat up quietly, and climbed slowly out of his bed to avoid making it squeak. He was still a moment, standing in the darkness with only the sound of his breathing reaching his ears. After a moment he padded barefoot to her bedside and quietly sat on the edge of the mattress.
Silence and stillness.
If asked, it would have been impossible for him to describe what he saw before him. It was all at once the most beautiful and most painful sight he had seen. Hermione's soft curls circled her face delicately, but in the dim moonlight of the room, it was undeniable how pale her skin was. He reached down and found her hand, and gently picked it up and held it between both of his own.
"Hermione," he whispered, his breath catching in his throat. He cleared his throat as quietly as he could and then placed his elbows on the mattress, and leaned his head closer to hers.
"Hermione," he started again. "Hermione I know you can hear me. I don't know how I know, but I do," he told her quietly, his surprise evident in his voice. "Listen Hermione, you have to wake up, okay? You need to wake up and be here with all of us again. We need you here . . . " he trailed off, his nerves starting to get the best of him. ". . . I need you here. You can't leave us, you're a third of the trio. Where would we be without you?" his voice trailed off again, a look of mixed shock and understanding crossing his face. "Where would I be without you? And I don't just mean I'd be failing potions . . . I'd be dead."
He bit his lip as an event from earlier that evening flashed into his head. Hermione, turning to him to say something, her eyes boring into his and in the middle of all the chaos going on in the room, all he could focus on for that second was her eyes. And then he had seen something out of the corner of his eye, a purple flame spawned from the wand of a death eater, and had watched in horror as it flew through the air towards Hermione. He looked back at her and she was still looking at him, not noticing the flame heading straight for her. Before he could open his mouth, it had passed through her and vanished on the other side.
He would never forget how she had looked at him that second before she fell. Her eyes had found his as she sighed a small "Oh."
Silence and stillness.
He had seen a hundred things in her eyes during that second before she fell. He could see that she had known what the flame was, had known what was about to happen to her. He could see regret, and he could see her scolding herself for being so careless. But through all of that, he saw something that shook him to the core. An apology.
"Don't feel like you abandoned us back there. We made it out okay, Mione," he said, surprised at how naturally a nickname he had never used before felt. It felt personal, like it was his secret with her, and if felt comfortable. "I've always wanted to call you that. I hope you don't mind," he squeezed her harder as he fought to not let his tears fall. "I know you wouldn't mind. I hope that I can keep calling you that…but anyway, we're all okay, Ron and Ginny and Neville and Luna and I, " he paused. Sirius, he thought.
Silence and stillness.
"Sirius didn't make it out. He fell-" Harry choked on the words as his vision was blurred with tears. "He fell behind that veil and just . . . disappeared. He was just gone," he finished, becoming very quiet. He sat in silence a few moments before looking back to her face.
"And now you're here because of me. Because I was stupid enough to get fooled into going there. I should have known. I know you did. You've always known everything," he said quietly as he leaned closer to her, putting only inches between their faces.
"Hermione," he whispered. "I don't know if I can do this without you. Things are about to get so much worse for everyone. Everything's going to change," he paused, looking over her face frantically. "A lot has changed just since you fell."
"I know I've never said anything before, but I want you to know that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You know that, Mione? I wouldn't be here without you. You're so much more to me than just my best friend. You've always been there, been . . . everything. Right in front of me. And when you wake up, I want to change some things . . . I want to show you how much you mean to me," he said, reaching up and stroking one of her curls that lay scattered across the sheets. He took a deep breath before looking at her, his face full of determination.
"Okay Hermione, you're going to listen to me now. I'm the bossy one for a minute. You have to wake up. You don't have a choice, okay? I'm not giving you any other choice. You have to come back to me, because I'm not sure if I want to go on if you aren't ther-"
I love her . . . he thought, the revelation hitting him like a ton of bricks. He leaned closer to her ear, lowered his voice, and then he whispered something he had never spoken before.
"I love you."
Silence and stillness.
He reached down again, taking her hand in his and squeezed it hard. "I'm not going to give up on you, so you can't give up on me. I need you, and I'm not letting go of your hand until you squeeze mine back. So come on Mione, open your eyes," he said, reaching up with his other hand to lightly touch her cheek. Her skin was wonderfully soft and chillingly cold, and its feel under his fingers gave him chills. "Please Mione. C'mon I know you can do it," he said, watching her face intently.
Only silence and stillness.
The silence was broken as a choked sob left his lips and his face fell. He blinked furiously, trying to not cry.
"Please Mione, give me a sign," he pleaded.
Silence and stillness.
A single tear surrendered and slid down his cheek. The rest quickly followed.
For the first time in his life, Harry began to cry. He lowered his head to Hermione's shoulder, overcome by grief and despair as all of the loss and pain of the past 15 years bore down on him.
"Hermione," he whispered between choked sobs as he slid his arms around her and sat up, holding her to him. "Please don't leave me. I need you here," he cried into her shoulder as he began rocking back and forth, clutching her tightly.
Silence and stillness. And then . . .
"Harry?"