Chapter 17: Awakenings
Author's Note: I've had a lot of things going on in my life, so if you want to read, go here (http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=demonicwriter)
I'm sorry it's taken me a long time to even write this. I've had too much on my mind, especially considering what just happened recently.
Davaca: give me your screen name if you have one, I'll wanna talk to you about your opinion and try to find out why you think that way. Possibly I could change...
Laen: that is a massive foreshadowing to the finally
Baelin: waiting for mine to get back at me, but that's not stopping me from publishing this. I'll edit it then
This is a short chapter. But hopefully, there will be more to come.
The light from the sun had just entered the infirmary, casting a haze over the patients who were peacefully asleep. No dangers, no fears, no hate to curse them and their dream worlds. Nothing could touch them. Nothing except a scream.
As the woman screamed her frustration, Harry tried to sit up, blinking away the sleep that hung gracefully in his eyes. But there was a weight that hung to his chest. Looking down, he saw Hermione laying there, peacefully asleep and smiling. Her grip on Harry was firm, yet soft, like with a teddy bear. He felt tired, exhausted, much like he did after a Quidditch match, but nowhere near as sore. He looked down and saw that his left hand was bond tight; a white bandage held his fingers closed, though he had no idea why. The world was fuzzy again, meaning that his new eyesight was gone and that he would have to find his glasses.
With his free hand, Harry reached over to Hermione's hair and began to softly pet it. She cuddled closer to him, moving farther up his chest until she was almost right underneath his nose. She shifted around, practically placing herself in his arms, not that Harry minded. He could have stayed there the whole day, if not for the nurse who just happened to come by them. Harry's eyes must have been closed since she had to have figured he was still asleep the way she was talking to them. "I swear, every day Bobby becomes more and more unacceptable." She fixed Harry's pillow and sighed right next to him. "You two really are adorable. I still can't believe that you refused to let go of each other."
"Of course they wouldn't let go," a man's voice rung in Harry's ears. "They are in love and in pain. What more to pull them to together when one is in need?" Some wheels scrapped against the floor as the man approached. A wheel chair? Harry thought. Where are we? He wanted to open his eyes, but Hermione snuggled closer, and Harry smiled. "Ah, I see one of them is awake." His eyes popped open quickly, but he didn't try to sit up. "No, stay where you are, we'll come to you." The wheels scrapped across the solid floor. Within a few moments, a woman was looking over him, holding her hand against his forehead.
"His fever is down." The woman pulled back and Harry looked at her. She had long black hair, hiding some of her face. "He also looks better. I think the infection is going away."
"Infection?" Harry asked, and again fought the urge to sit up.
"Yes, apparently you got a cut-"
"My forehead?" Harry asked trying got be helpful, but when he reached up and touched it, all he could feel was his old scar, nothing else.
"No, there was a cut along your arm." the woman pointed at his bandaged hand. "We were worried that we were going to have to remove it, but I think that it has heal rather nicely, if not surprisingly quick." she gave a look to the bald man in the wheelchair.
"I doubt she'll wake up if you move a bit so you are a bit more comfortable when you are talking to us.'" Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to move. He felt very comfortable with Hermione sleeping on his chest like that. But in truth, he wanted to see them better. So moving slowly, Harry was able to pull himself up, despite the sore muscles that ripped through him with pain. Hermione simply shifted down his chest until she was in his lap. Harry took a pillow and gave it to her to rest her head upon, sliding it carefully underneath her sleeping form.
"Sir, you don't happen to have-" Harry began to ask, but the man held out a pair of glasses.
"Roland left them for you, saying that you were probably broken last night." Harry was unsure if the glasses would even work, but he was surprised at how clear he saw with them. Apparently the shock was evident upon his face for the man chuckled and added. "Yes Roland does have a way of knowing things that he shouldn't. We've just haven't figured out how he does it." The man smiled. He was bald, not the normal balding man, but he had completely shaved off all his hair. He had his legs wrapped in a blanket, and was petting an orange cat.
"But please excuse my poor manners," the man continued. "My name if Professor Charles Xavier. Right now
you are in the hospital room of the Xavier School for the Gifted."
"Gifted? As in mutants?" Harry asked. After seeing what occurred the night before, Harry figured that mutants had to be involved. Especially friends of Roland's. The bald man nodded and Harry replied with the first thing he thought of. "Cool." Xavier chuckled.
"Well, that certainly wasn't the response I was expecting," The man smiled, "but not unwelcome. I am glad to see you are so open to mutants, Harry, right?"
"That's cause I'm a mutant," Harry replied, his eyes settling down on Hermione.
"Because Harry," she said softly, her head reclaiming his lap. "Use correct grammar." He petted her hair. "And we both are, I think, professor."
"Ah, I see you are awake." The old man smiled, though Harry missed it, his eyes remaining on the girl in his lap. "We'll leave you two alone now, so you can talk about last night." He nodded, thanking Xavier for allowing them this time. The wheels disappeared followed by feet shuffling along quickly.
For a while, Harry didn't say anything, he just petted the soft locks of the girl smiling on his lap. But he had so much on his mind, mainly what happened to the Grangers. Harry didn't want Hermione to hold all that pain in; he wanted her to grieve. He wanted to be able to move on, not just hold that anger and hate. Now was better than ever. "Hermione we need to talk." She sat up quickly, fear in her eyes. "No, not that, I'm happy with you." She sighed and Harry pulled her into his lap. "No, I want to talk about what happen last night." Her arms were held close to his chest, one grabbing his shirt. Harry's arms were holding her waist, his eyes trying to look into hers.
"I'm okay," Hermione replied, refusing to look into his eyes. She began to play with some of the
sheets that were wrapped around them.
"No, you aren't," Harry lifted her chin so he could see her eyes filling with tears. "I know what you are going through-" She started to open her mouth but quickly shut it, along with her eyes, trying to hold back the waterfall that was threatening to tumble down her cheeks. "Please, talk with me. It's me, Harry, your best friend for six years and your boyfriend." Hermione smiled at that last part, but didn't look at up him.
"It was you who told me about Fate, Mione. It was you who told me that things happen for a reason, even if we don't know what that reason is." Harry pulled her close, trying to get her to grieve, but Hermione shook her head no, refusing to think about her parents, but the tears on her cheeks betrayed her will. "I am here for a reason, and that reason is you." The walls broke down, and Hermione allowed herself to grieve, albeit silently. Harry remained her rock, holding her to the real world and his love. "Let it out, I'm here, Mione, I'm here." She cried harder, knowing that Harry would protect her. She knew that in the end he would always be there, waiting for her, watching over her.
For a while, neither moved, even after Hermione stopped crying. She just stayed within Harry's arms, him playing with her hair. They didn't even talk, comfortable in each other's presence to where no more words needed to be said. Finally, when a bell rung in the distance, Hermione spoke up. "I can feel my legs again." Harry smiled. She returned one with her perfect teeth, thanks to Madam Pomfrey. Hermione looked down again, rubbing her chest from where Dolohov's curse cut her. A pain echoed through is full heart knowing how much pain he caused.
"I figured that you could," Harry replied. "But how are you other wise?"
"It still hurts," Hermione looked down, playing with the sheets again. "Like an emptiness that I will never be able to fill. And I doubt that will ever go away."
"No, it won't," Harry kissed her the crown of her head. "But you can find something to help lesson the pain." Hermione looked up with hope in her eyes.
"You'll be it then," she leaned forward, and kissed him gently upon the lips before wrapping her arms around him. Harry's arms knew where they want to go, hooking themselves around her waist and pulling her closer. Even after spending all their time with each other, this relationship was only a few days old, new to them. He kissed her deeply, taking it slow. He didn't want to push her or himself; everything happens in it own time. But right now, they need this release. Harry held in his fears and worries the night before. And to know that she was safe lifted his heart high above the clouds.
Hermione pulled away slowly, looking into his eyes. "What's wrong?" for a moment, she didn't answer. Instead, she removed his glasses, searching his eyes. "Hermione?"
"You need to grieve too," she spoke softly. And Harry looked down. He didn't want to grieve, nor did he think he was ready. "It wasn't your fault, honey." She cupped his cheek, soothing him with her thumb. Harry knew where this would lead to, but he couldn't go there, not even now. She couldn't know, not now. It would break her heart. "Don't."
"Huh?"
"Don't," Hermione repeated. "Don't push me away. You wanted me, you got me." The bossy side came back out and Harry almost feared the curly brown haired girl. Almost. "Now, you either need to talk about or…." Hermione poked Harry's side. "Or I can force the information out of you." She poked him again, yet Harry didn't move.
"I'm not ticklish there," He smiled. Harry was glad for the diversion. "But let's see if you are."
"I'm not ticklish either."
Harry tried to tickle her side, but Hermione squirmed. "Oh, so maybe Ms. Granger is ticklish." He moved again, but she wiggled, forcing Harry to pause. Her ward dress she had on opened up a bit.
"Harry," Hermione asked as her boyfriend sat straight up. "What's wrong?" she straddled his legs, and leaned forward, giving him a better look. "Harry ,talk to me." He couldn't look down with out seeing- "oh, Merlin." Hermione quickly sat back, her face burning bright red, practically matching Harry's. He quickly closed his eyes as the dress almost fell completely off.
"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly, hoping to recover some of her dignity. Better him take the blame then her be completely embarrassed. But of cause Hermione would have none of that.
"Nonsense, Harry," Hermione cupped his cheek again, smiling. Her other hand held her ward-dress closed. "It was an accident. But if you could do a favor." Hermione turned around, the white straps that held the neck closed where hanging along her bare back. Luckily, the straps were still tied tightly around her waist. But it did leave little to the imagination. Harry looked up, gulping down the lump that now was firmly lodged in his throat. `Please Harry, I can't hold this closed and tie it at the same time."
Harry didn't answer. "Consider it boyfriend privileges." Harry watched her blush come sailing down her back. "Please." Without seeing her eyes, he knew she was a making a puppy-dog face. Sighing, Harry knew he was defeated. He looked down and tried to focus, but with a beautiful bare back with he just wanted to run his hands up and down, it was hard. But slowly, he reached out and took one of the white straps in his hand. Hermione shivered under his cold hands. And moving with the grace he received from being a Seeker, Harry quickly tied her dress back up, but not before running his fingers down her back. Hermione's soft moan almost missed his ears, but he caught it nonetheless, and a smile came to his face.
"You okay?" he asked placing his hands on her shoulder and looking at the top of her head. Hermione nodded, but didn't turn around. She sniffled, and Harry watched a hand come to her face to wipe the tears away. "Mione, what's wrong?"
"My parents would have loved you," she said, not looking at her boyfriend. "You are so loving and gentle." She sighed, her shoulders dropping. Hermione was defeated. At the sight of her mother being brutally murdered cursed her with a plague that would never leave her alone. That is, until Harry helped. "I'm not even mad at you for shortening my name." Hermione whimpered. Harry pulled her back into his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist.
"I miss them so much," Hermione's face contorted from the pain of loss, the tears ready to fall. "Why does it hurt so much?"
"It feels like a part of your heart is missing, doesn't it?" he whispered softly, placing his chin gently on her head. "Its like the world is colder without them?" Hermione nodded, and wiped away more tears. "It'll never go away, never heal, even though the pain will lessen. That hole will always be there, but the memories will be too. Cherish them, Hermione. For you know that your parents will always love you." Tears were threatening to fall from Harry's eyes. He never knew his parents. In fact, he was jealous of Hermione and Ron, both having know their parents. He closed his eyes, trying to think of them. Bright green eyes and blazing hair were what he could remember the most, but somewhere he saw bits and pieces of his father. A man who hair was a black as Harry's, who wore glasses just like his son. It was the little things that haunted Harry.
Sleep came to both of them, Harry's arms never unwinding to allow Hermione out, she never leaving his side. Two souls had become one in some mystical way. It was as if everything in the world had turned out alright. And nothing could change the destiny that was brought toward them.
* * * * * *
Professor Charles Xavier smiled at the sight of the two newest additions to his school. They were comforting each other in their darkest hour and were going to survive. Yet, he had never seen two children so in love and devoted to each other. The only other two people who held that much love was Roland and Heather. A frown came to his face as the thought of one of his most troubled students arose.
"Come Annie," Charles said, "we should check up on Mr. de'Moas." He rolled down the hallway, making his way to the private wing of the mansion.
A few of his students swore that it was haunted; by the moans, the creeks, and the darkness that hung in the empty air. But he knew it was all a hoax, one created by the two students who lived there. Almost no one else could handle the emotion onslaught that came from the area. Annie was nervous as they approached the wing. Roland wasn't one of her favorite people right now. Her son had accidentally entered this wing and was in a coma for a few days. Charles was a mission in Washington at the time of the incident, and Emma had no experience with Roland's mind traps. But, Alex seemed to enjoy the experience, even matched wits with Roland. When he returned, Alex wanted to talk to the man, but his mother quickly forbid it. Mutants were one thing; demons were a completely different story.
"Relax, Annie," Charles said, rolling down the hallway. The voices that normally haunted the area were gone. Instead, joy and happiness had taken its place. "odd."
"I dobut you want to go down there right now, Chuck," Logan was standing in the shadows. "AS soon as she was able to heal the worst of his wounds and jump start his ability, she jumped him. They've been at it for about an hour." Annie blushed and looked away, but Charles just smiled.
"and why are you down here?" Logan smirked.
"I wanted to talk to him about something." The only person other than his girlfriend that Roland trusted was Logan. Something had happened in the past couple years that caused the loner to find a friend within the demon. To Charles, it was a good thing. Logan turned to leave, a cigar in his hand.
"If you wish to know," Charles said as he turned himself around, "The two children you brought back from England are awake and well."
"They ain't children," Logan replied. "They've seen more than enough to scare me shitless." He walked away and didn't look back at the old man. A bird flew in from an open window and landed gracefully upon his shoulder. "why, hello there, darlin'." He petted the owls soft feathers, earning a coo from it. "You must belong to harry." The owl nodded. "Well, he's restin right now, with that girl of his." The owl nodded. "you hunger, cuase I am. Why don't we go find us some food." The owl cooed again, and Logan walked away, talking to it.
"Professor?" Annie asked.
Charles shook his head. Things were going to get very odd around the X-Mansion, more so than usual.
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