Voice of the Heart
Disclaimer: See Part 1.
Author's Note: For Anne U- and everyone else who believes that love will save Harry in the end.
Part 3: Love is Worth It
She had gone out to walk, too restless to stay inside the castle, brushing aside Ron's offer of company. She wanted to be alone.
It had been more than 4 days since Harry had left, 4 days of- nothing. No news, nothing to indicate whether Harry was alive or- she stopped her thoughts abruptly, unable to even form the idea that Harry might not be alive… He had promised to return and she clung to that promise, irrationally she sometimes thought, but clung to it nevertheless.
Because the alternative was unthinkable.
She was on her way back inside when she saw it. A crumpled patch of black against the green of the grass.
Afterwards she could never explain how she knew what it was. She just knew.
Her heart stopped and for a moment she couldn't move, couldn't think. Only a moment and then she screamed, "Harry!" and ran, fear and love and hope and dread welling up within her, lending speed to her feet.
It was Harry. Harry, bruised, bloody, unconscious, his glasses broken, clutching two wands in one hand, and in the other, a scrap of cloth. She choked back the cry of horror at the sight of him, knowing panicking wasn't going to help. She needed to stay calm; Harry needed her to be calm…
Madam Pomfrey shook her head, sighing heavily, when she saw Harry. She had forcibly ejected everyone from the Infirmary, everyone except for Hermione, Ron, and Headmistress McGonagall. And now she frowned, shaking her head again as she passed her wand over Harry's body, to ascertain all the injuries.
"Is- is he going to be alright?" McGonagall finally asked the question Hermione and Ron hadn't dared to ask, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant and subdued.
Madam Pomfrey sighed again, the sound sending a fresh wave of dread over Hermione and causing Ron to tighten his grip on her arm.
"It's hard to say," she finally answered. "His physical injuries are terrible but they can be healed, with time." There was another pause. "But the harm to his mind…" She glanced at Hermione and Ron, an unusual look of sympathy in her eyes. "I don't know when- or if- he'll wake up."
For a moment Hermione thought her knees were going to give way. When or if he'll wake up… If… No! Her mind shrieked out a denial of Madam Pomfrey's words. Harry couldn't not wake up; she couldn't lose him, not now, not like this…
Pain. So much pain. Everywhere. His entire body hurt all over. And it was so dark…
He was back at Hogwarts, walking by the side of the lake. The sun was shining and it was one of those beautiful days where the world seemed to be celebrating the spring. Nothing hurt anymore. He felt- wonderful, happy, completely carefree for the first time in his life.
And suddenly he saw them and smiled, somehow not surprised. He'd been expecting to see them, hadn't he? His parents, hand in hand and smiling; Sirius grinning; and following behind them, Hagrid, beaming and waving one large hand. Professor Dumbledore was there too, also smiling, his blue eyes twinkling as brightly as ever behind his spectacles.
And then he was there, standing in front of them.
Lily smiled as she hugged him. "Harry, you've done it. Your father and I always knew you could and we're so proud…"
James clapped a hand on his shoulder before giving his son a hug, and Harry realized he was now a little taller than his father. "That's my boy," he said, his grin getting wider.
Sirius put one hand on each of his shoulders saying, "Knew you could do it, Harry," and Harry smiled, hugging his godfather for the first time. "Thanks, Sirius."
He turned to Hagrid who patted him on the shoulder a few times, nearly knocking him down. "Alrigh', Harry. Yeh did it, knew yeh could."
Professor Dumbledore smiled and nodded his approval. "Yes, indeed, Harry. You found your strength within you."
Lily spoke up. "Now it's your time to be happy, darling. Come," she said, holding out her hand. "It's time for us to be a family again. You don't have to suffer anymore."
To be happy… not to suffer anymore, no more pain, no more worries… It sounded wonderful…
And yet he hesitated, summarizing his hesitation in one word. "Hermione."
He tried to explain, to tell his parents that he loved her, that he couldn't leave her like this, but the words wouldn't come. Finally he said simply, "I- I need her."
Lily and James glanced at each other, a tender look in their eyes before returning their attention to Harry.
Lily's green eyes, the same eyes that he had, shone softly. "Your father once told me that same thing, that he needed me." She paused and then began to nod, smiling still even as tears glistened in her eyes. "Yes, Harry, you're right. Stay with your Hermione. She, and your feelings for her, are more important than anything else."
James and Sirius both were nodding, understanding and approval in their eyes.
They all looked towards Professor Dumbledore as he stepped forward, his eyes on Harry. "To live is to feel pain, Harry. But it is also to feel joy, to know triumph and love. Here," he gestured around him with one hand, "in this place, we know only the joys of life and none of the sorrows. You know, Harry, if you stay, you can finally be happy, carefree, a real child for the first time. What you have to decide is whether she is worth what you will suffer in your future life. Is she?"
Harry looked at his parents, his godfather, his first friend, his professor. And he didn't hesitate. "She is."
It was all he said, all he needed to say. He didn't need to add what he knew and what he suspected at least Sirius and Hagrid knew: without Hermione, he could never be completely happy; he'd be missing part of himself…
Dumbledore smiled then, nodding slowly. "Love, Harry; never forget that it is the most important and the most powerful thing of all."
"Love," Lily affirmed, squeezing Harry's shoulder before stepping back.
"Love," James and Sirius repeated, James giving him a quick hug before stepping back beside Lily.
"Love," Hagrid said, wiping his eyes and waving a hand.
"Love," Dumbledore said firmly. "Love, Harry, and live."
And then pain exploded through his body and he was alone again…
He couldn't move his hand. Why couldn't he move his hand?
Someone was holding it. Hermione.
She was talking, saying something. What was she saying? He had to force himself to concentrate, to hear what she was saying through the haze that seemed to be clouding his mind.
"You have to wake up, Harry. Please wake up. You've fought so much for so long, Harry, fight just once more, fight to stay here. You can't leave. You promised you'd come back, Harry, you promised." Her voice broke a little but she continued on, though he could hear tears in her voice. "I love you, Harry. Can you hear me? I love you and you can't leave. I love you; I've always loved you…" Her voice dropped nearly to a whisper. "I'll always love you. Please, Harry, wake up, come back to me…"
The pain receded slightly at the sound of those words it seemed he'd been waiting his whole life to hear, those three words spoken by the most important person in his life.
He had to tell her he loved her too, had to tell her that he had done everything for her…
But it hurt… He couldn't open his eyes; it took too much effort and he was so tired… Tired of hurting, tired of trying… The darkness took him again…
It was the longest four days of Hermione's life.
She kept vigil by Harry's bedside, holding his hand, trying to infuse some of her own strength, her love, into him, wondering as she looked at his pale face and closed eyes if she would ever see those green eyes look at her again…
"Hermione. Hermione, wake up."
She started awake at a touch on her shoulder, looking up to see Ron and Madam Pomfrey.
"Hermione, you should rest. You're worrying yourself sick," Ron said gently.
Hermione privately thought that Ron probably looked little better than she herself did. He was pale and his eyes blood-shot from lack of sleep. The main difference between them was only that he stayed up most of the night in the Gryffindor Common Room while she spent hers in the Infirmary. (She knew that Ron had spent little time in the 7th year boy's room in Gryffindor Tower because Ron couldn't stand to be in that room where Harry's trunk still was while his bed was empty and Harry himself was unconscious in the Infirmary with no one knowing if he would ever regain consciousness again.)
"No, Ron. I want to stay with him. If he wakes up, I don't want him to be alone. You understand, don't you, Ron? That I have to stay with him?" She looked up at him, her eyes asking for understanding.
He nodded slowly. "Yes, I understand."
It was the first acknowledgement he had given of knowing of her feelings for Harry and she smiled, her first smile in more than a week. "Thank you."
"But at least go to the kitchens and get some food and then go outside for some fresh air. I'll stay with Harry for a while. You can go tell Dobby how he is," Ron continued, smiling slightly.
"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey spoke up, "Mr. Weasley is right. You should get some food and some fresh air. It's not likely that Mr. Potter's condition will change drastically in your absence."
She knew they were right. She suddenly realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. "Okay. I'll be back soon then." She paused to look at Harry again. "Call me if he wakes up," she said softly, turning to Ron.
"Of course. Now, get out of here," he replied, his teasing smile softening the words.
She smiled back and left, heading down to the kitchens.
They'd strictly closed the Hogwarts grounds to the rest of the Wizarding world, with the exception of Remus Lupin and the Weasleys, but it didn't keep the owls from arriving. The Daily Prophet had sent an owl nearly every half-hour asking about his condition and if Harry had awoken and when (or if) he'd give them an interview. All the replies on Harry's condition, sent just once every evening, had been the same- that he was still unconscious and no one knew when he'd regain consciousness.
No one knew… The thought haunted her every minute of the day.
Could Harry, Harry, really not wake up, just lie there unconscious day after day, year after year, as she had heard some of the permanent patients in St. Mungo's did? Harry who had survived so much already, who was so strong even if he didn't realize it himself… He couldn't…
And yet… And yet… She couldn't deny the cold fear that he could, he might… Madam Pomfrey had looked so grave…
No. She gave herself a mental shake, refusing to let herself give in to her fears like this. Harry would wake up. He would recover. He was going to be fine.
She believed that.
She had to believe it…
Harry awoke to the same consciousness that someone, that Hermione, was holding his hand in both of hers. He waited for the burst of pain that had accompanied every conscious moment since he'd faced Voldemort-but it didn't come. He felt stiff, heavy, somehow, but he didn't feel pain. And it was a blessed relief.
Tentatively, he tightened his fingers around Hermione's. He knew the moment she felt the slight pressure from her sharp intake of breath.
Another effort, another minute, and he managed to speak. "Hermione…" Ok, so not speak, exactly; her name was barely more than a whisper, just a wisp of sound escaping his mouth.
It took another inordinate effort on his part to try to open his eyes, but he managed it. His vision was blurred and he blinked, slowly, until it cleared and he saw her. Saw her and he knew he was home, he was safe…
A smile was trembling on her lips, though there were tears in her eyes. "Harry, you're awake. Oh, I'm so glad…"
Slowly, his eyes moved over her face, unconsciously memorizing it, the dear face he knew so well, the face he'd seen in his mind the entire time he'd been away, when he'd faced Voldemort, the mental picture he'd clung to even in the midst of the Cruciatus, the reminder that he wasn't fighting for some abstract ideal or even to save an anonymous world.... He was fighting for her- for the friendship, the loyalty, the happiness she'd brought into his life- for the love she had given him and the love she'd taught him to feel. The image of her, the knowledge that he had to survive for her sake and not just for his, the promise he'd made to return- they'd all given him strength, the last bit of strength and energy he needed to be the last one alive, when it was all over and he wished he could give up, to stop trying… In that last moment before he'd finally passed out next to his nemesis' corpse, he could almost have sworn he heard her voice, as he had in his Quidditch matches, Come on, Harry, you can do it. And in that last moment, he'd managed a wan semblance of a smile and thought, I did it, Hermione, for you…
Just looking at her face felt like healing to him… He frowned slightly. "You look exhausted," he managed to say, his voice husky from lack of use.
She laughed a little, wiping the tears off her face, ending with a half-sob. "Harry Potter, what kind of thing is that to say when I've spent the last week not knowing if I was ever going to be able to talk to you again."
"How long…" he made the smallest of movements with his head, indicating their surroundings, the Infirmary. And as always, she understood what he meant.
"You've been here for five days, Harry. Today's Saturday; it was Monday night when I found you."
"I'm sorry…" Harry managed to say. Sorry for all the worry he'd caused her, the tears, the sleepless nights that had left shadows under her eyes…
She smiled, squeezing his hand in both of hers. "Don't be; you have nothing to be sorry for."
He nodded a little, exhaustion beginning to overtake him again.
Hermione made to stand up. "I'll go get Madam Pomfrey; she'll want to know you're conscious."
He gripped her hand tighter in his. "Stay with me," he managed to say.
She sat back down again, smiling through the tears that were still in her eyes. "As long as you want me to."
His lips twitched in an attempt at a smile as his eyes closed. "Thank you," he mumbled.
Hermione sat with him until she knew he was asleep. He had woken up. He would wake up again. He was going to be fine. And all she could think was, thank you, although she didn't know whom she was thanking.
~*~
The first thing Harry saw when he woke up was Hermione, dozing in a chair pulled up beside his bed.
Her hand was still holding his, just as it had been when he fell asleep.
And he suddenly realized that he felt happy, at peace. He was bed-ridden in the Infirmary where he had spent all too much time already. But Voldemort was gone for good and he was right where he belonged, with Hermione, who loved him.
He thought of his dream?, fantasy?, whatever-it-was where he had chosen Hermione over staying with his parents, with Sirius and Hagrid. Looking at her now, he knew why he hadn't hesitated at all. Hermione was his happiness; it was as simple as that.
And watching her, he felt the words he'd never said to anyone else well up inside his chest. He wanted to say the words to her, and he did, very softly, just above a whisper, since he didn't want to wake her. He didn't need to be told that she hadn't slept much at all in the past few days. It was just a wisp of sound from his lips. "I love you, Hermione."
Hermione stirred, making small waking-up noises that brought a small smile to his lips. There was something very intimate about watching someone sleep, even if it was only a light doze in a chair, and then watching them wake up. It wasn't something you normally saw with people you knew, even with friends, unless you shared a room. It was just one of those little things that draws people closer, and he smiled at the knowledge that this, waking up to see Hermione, watching her sleep and then watching her wake up, this was what he wanted every day for the rest of his life.
She opened her eyes and saw him and her lips curved upwards in a smile. "Harry, you're awake," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. I don't feel like I've been trampled by a herd of rampaging hippogriffs anymore," he joked rather feebly.
She winced slightly and her eyes darkened at his words.
Harry hurried to change the subject, looking down instead at their still joined hands. "Thanks for staying with me."
She gave him a small smile, one he'd never quite seen before and somehow knew she never showed to anyone else, a smile of tenderness, of caring. A smile that felt like healing, just seeing it. "Where else would I be when you're in the Infirmary?"
The question was so simple and yet so poignant, a stark reminder of the many times in the past seven years that he'd been injured whether from Quidditch or from Voldemort and Hermione had been with him. She'd always been with him; whenever he was hurt (and even when he wasn't), she was always there for him. What on earth had he ever done to deserve such loyalty?
He sobered. "Hermione, I- I want to tell you something."
"What is it, Harry?"
He opened his mouth, closed it, frowned a little as if thinking of how to word his thoughts before saying simply, "I love you."
She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes misting over. "Oh, Harry…" she breathed softly.
He continued on, the words coming quicker now that the most important thing he had to say was out of the way, and all the while his eyes held hers steadily. He had the sudden feeling that this was the most important moment of his life so far, this moment telling Hermione the truth of his feelings. Facing Voldemort had been a duty, the end to years of tension and worry and dangers. But this-this was the reason he'd done everything he had, the reason he'd lived… "I didn't let you say it before I left. I think in some small part of me, I didn't want to hear it until it was all over. It's why I didn't tell you sooner, too, even though I've known it for months now." He paused, squeezing her hand tighter in his. "I knew I couldn't die without telling you I loved you, knew that I'd come back, even from hell, to tell you." He smiled slightly. "I promised you I'd come back and I had to keep my promise, didn't I?"
She smiled a watery smile through the tears on her face. "Oh Harry… I love you too."
Their eyes met and held. Then slowly, very slowly, she bent down, her eyes never leaving his, until they fluttered closed at the last moment. And their lips met for the first time.
The kiss was soft, tinged with a bit of uncertainty at this new step in their relationship, soft and sweet and perfect…
Harry thought of his parents, Sirius, Hagrid, and their offer of heaven, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'd made the right decision. This, being here with Hermione, knowing she loved him and he was finally free to love her-this was his heaven.
The End