Disclaimer: I don't own anything, If I did then I wouldn't be posting it in a fan fiction site, I'd be putting it in the next Harry Potter book.
Authors Notes: I read something about this in the challenges forum on Portkey, but the guidelines for the challenge weren't really all that suited for me. Plus, this is a plot bunny that has been nagging at me for AGES, so I wanna get it down before it drives me to insanity… uh, I mean, before it drives me out of insanity. J
Summary: Harry is sick, and Hermione helps him to get better.
Harry trudged into the empty common room, cold and wet, fresh from his first Quidditch practice of the season. He'd managed to really beat himself up this time, he'd been hit by the bludgers three times. His head was so fuzzy and so unclear that he couldn't concentrate on the snitch, and the bludgers at the same time. In the end, Angelina had gotten fed up and sent him in, telling him to sort himself out, while the others carried on playing.
He walked over to the sofa, his scarlet and gold robes laden with mud and rain, his hair dripping droplets of water everywhere. Closing his eyes wearily, he flopped down, completely drained of energy and feeling totally dead. In the corner of his eye, he noticed hazel brown eyes watching him, concerned.
"Harry, You don't look well," she moved closer, dropping the book she was holding onto the floor and using the free hand to lay it across his forehead, feeling the groove that his legendary scar made. He sighed, his eyes fighting to keep open, and only nodded. His throat was far too dry and scratchy to speak. "I think you ought to go to bed. Come on…"
She stood up and extended a hand to pull him off the sofa, which he accepted, a grateful look in his brilliant green eyes. He let himself be pulled up by Hermione, too weak and lazy to think about his manly pride, and allowed himself to be pushed over to the boys' dormitories, her warm hands on his back.
"The common room looks weird…," he mumbled, his voice raspy and raw. "It's all blurry…It's spinning… Why is it spinning, Hermione? Stop it…"
He began to panic slightly, shaking his head and stopping himself being pushed by Hermione, who looked scared and began to back away. He looked around at the sofa and the fire, or rather the two pairs of sofas and fires, which were all looking strange, and starting to spin slightly.
"Harry? You're hallucinating… I really think you ought to get to bed… now."
Harry tried to nod, his head beginning to really hurt, and tried to turn to the boys dormitories, feeling as though he'd left his glasses on the sofa. He managed to reach the stairs. But didn't get any further however, as he began to lose balance. He swayed, and Hermione ran to his side to try and hold him up, but she was too late and he fell.
Hitting his head on the soft carpet floor, he had lost his glasses, which made his hallucinations ten times worse. His eyes were growing even more tired, and he could not keep them open. The last thing he saw was Hermione, her face floating above his own, calling him, incoherently, tears dripping down her porcelain cheeks, before eventually fading into darkness.
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Hermione began to panic, there was no one in the common room, everyone was at Quidditch practice, or in other engagements, and she couldn't leave Harry here, alone on the common room floor, unconscious. She looked at him, her face sweating with concern and shock, for he had just collapsed on the scarlet carpeted floor, his face sweating and pale, his eyes a dull green and looking tired. He looked thoroughly worn out, covered in mud and water, a drop slowly dripping down his face. Without a second thought, she brushed it aside and cupped his cheek, wondering what on earth he could have done to himself to get like this.
Looking around the common room once more, as if there might have been someone there since half a minute ago, she came to the conclusion that it was up to her to get Harry to the hospital wing. She sat him up, with little difficulty, she found with some surprise, and managed, somehow, to hoist his long arm around her neck. Expecting to have to use all her strength to lift him, she pushed herself up quite quickly, misjudging how heavy Harry was. She was surprised, he was really quite light, as much to be worried about even.
She made her way out of the portrait hole with surprising ease, with a distraught look on the Fat Lady's face and an unneeded gasp of; "Oh my goodness! Is he alright?". Shooting a dirty look at her, which clearly said; 'Does it look like it?' she turned and set off for the hospital wing.
She trundled through corridors and through tapestries, with Harry's arm on her shoulder, carrying him through the vast halls of Hogwarts, her mind frantic with worry. Harry had gone through a lot of bad things, but not many of them had caused him to be this bad. At first she figured he might have gotten hit by a bludger or two in practice, and maybe the cold he had lately hadn't helped matters, but no way would that have caused him to hallucinate and fall unconscious.
After a while they reached the hospital wing, Hermione opening the door and hoisting Harry up a bit, so he was easier to carry. She entered the bright, white-walled wing, and made her way over to the nearest white linen bed, picking Harry up with ease and placing him upon the sheets. Looking at him, tears of worry lining her eye lashes, she placed a hand on his forehead again, feeling the familiar groove of his scar. He was burning up, and clammy. She sighed sadly, stroking his face, tears beginning to fall.
She cared a great deal for Harry, and it killed her to see him in this condition, frail and vulnerable. They had been through a lot, and she knew, that if it was the other way around, Harry would have done the same for her, and more. He was compassionate like that, always the one who made sure she was okay, always making sure she never studied to hard, or that she got herself frantic over exams. All the little things that he did, like be there and hug her when she was down, and not join in with the other when they teased her about her studying, they all added up, which made Hermione feel like she cared for Harry a tad more then Ron. It pained her to say it of course, she had always felt that she had felt the same about both of her boys, they were a trio, but lately, Ron had been slightly less friendly towards her, teasing her more often and shouting a lot more.
A small, shrill scream disrupted her thoughts and she turned, to find Madam Pomfrey running down the wing, a worried look on her face. She reached Harry's bed and looked him up and down, flustered and shocked.
"What's he been doing now? Been hit by a bludger has he? I have told the headmaster again and again that that game is too dangerous to be played by school children…"
Hermione listened to the nurse ramble on and on about Harry's previous visits to the Hospital wing, watching Harry's face intently. Tears were still falling down her cheeks, and she lifted her hand to meet Harry's, entwining her fingers around his weather beaten skin, speaking softly, and slow.
"Wake up, Harry, please wake up… I need you here with me…"
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Well? What did you think? Sorry to leave it there like that, but don't worry, I'll have the next chapter up soon. This is my first real big chaptered story, so I need LOADSA REVIEWS!