For a week, Harry rarely left Hermione's bedside. Mdame Pomfrey refused to let him sleep next to Hermione, but she let him sleep in an armchair in the room. Ron went back to the dorms at night, claiming that the smell of hospital was driving him crazy. Every morning Harry would steal away for 20 minutes to change, eat, and shower. He refused to leave unless Ron was there, claiming that he didn't trust anyone else to be with her.
To everyone's surprise, they managed to keep up with their schoolwork. Even more surprising, it was mostly due to Harry's tenacity. Some rather large part of him felt that Hermione would strangle him if she found out he wasn't keeping up… if for nothing else than for her own sake. So he spent much of his time with her reading his assignments aloud and going through them step by step until both he and Ron understood. He hoped that she could hear everything he was saying and that she wouldn't feel too far behind when she awoke.
She hadn't so much as twitched a muscle since Harry's first night with her. It made everyone, Ron and Madam Pomfrey included, very nervous. However, Harry still strongly believed that she only moved because he'd needed it and would do so again should the situation call for it. He was determined to let her wake up on her own.
Neville spent most of his free time in the hospital wing. He'd bring them all their assignments, along with food and mail. Harry was touched, though slightly surprised that he had yet to lose anything important. Neville seemed to set that as a personal goal for himself. "I'm not going to let her down," he told them constantly. "You two are the most important people in her life, and if she's not going to look out for you, then I will."
Malfoy had tried to get in to taunt him. The enchanted room, however, was doing an excellent job. It somehow seemed to sense the bond between Harry and Hermione and, though Malfoy hadn't come to attack Hermione, he had come to wish harm upon Harry. The room seemed to take it personally and, as soon as one of his feet crossed the threshold, flung him all the way back into the hall. After laying in a dazed heap for a half-hour, Malfoy gave up and hadn't been back since.
The only real light to the entire situation that Harry could see was that it somehow managed to put his and Ron's friendship back to normal. Ron confessed that he was still angry, that he would be angry for a while, but that Hermione was more important and that they had to get along for her sake, if for nothing else. He also added, with uncharacteristic seriousness, that he thought the entire ordeal was making Harry lose his marbles and he wouldn't just let Harry succumb to it alone.
Harry, for his part, was more than relieved to have Ron nearby. He was sometimes afraid that he really was losing it. He'd spend long moments just staring off into space, a blank look on his face. But Ron would jab him with his wand, slap him on the back, and tell him that if he was lucky enough to have Hermione the least he could do was stop bloody crying all over her all the damn time.
After eight days of the routine, Harry was surprised to find himself shaken awake one morning by Ginny Weasely. He looked at her through blurry eyes, groping for his glasses, when she held them up and hooked them on his nose. "Good morning!" she said cheerfully.
Harry yawned sleepily. "Waz goin' on?"
Ron entered the room and let out a bark of laughter. "Jeez, Harry, how late were you and Hermione up last night?"
Harry glared at him and tried to get his bearings. "What are you doing here?" he directed at Ginny.
She looked a little nervous. "Well… you know… it's… well… it's… the… um… Quidditch… match… today. Against Slytherin."
"I'm not going," Harry responded quickly.
Ron and Ginny looked at him, slightly panicked. "What d'you mean, you're not going?" Ron asked.
Harry gestured to Hermione. "I'm not leaving her."
"WHAT?" Ginny cried, flabbergasted. "You can't be serious! We need you, Harry!"
"Get someone else to play Seeker." He jerked his shoulder. "You can do it."
"I'm a Chaser!"
"Then Ron'll do it."
"I'm Keeper, Harry! For God's sakes, man, wake up!"
Harry took his usual spot next to Hermione on the bed. "I'm not going," he repeated.
"But you're our Captain, Harry!" Ginny wailed. "We can't do this without you!"
"Then forfeit."
"To Slytherin?" she mumbled, aghast. "You want us to purposely lose to Malfoy?"
Harry shrugged. "Then play. I don't care. There are more important things than Quidditch."
Ron's eyes got very wide. "More important things than Quidditch?"
"Harry, this isn't healthy!" Ginny wailed. "Hermione wouldn't want you to do this. You're life shouldn't just stop because hers has! You've barely left this room for over a week! It's not good for you to be in the hospital this long when you're not even sick!"
"I think she's right, Harry," Ron said quietly. "This isn't healthy. You need to keep living."
"So Quidditch is more important than Hermione?" Harry snapped.
Ron flinched. "Nothing is more important than Hermione," he said. "But I don't think this will help her any. She'd want you to play, Harry."
"You just want to win the cup," Harry responded, nastily.
Ron stood up. "You know what? Forget I said anything. You just stay here, Ginny and I will go tell the rest of the team that we have to forfeit because you were too much of a coward to leave the safety of these walls."
Harry rubbed his temples, wearily. "Ron, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. But I can't leave her. I can't. What if she wakes up while I'm gone?"
"Then you'll get a pleasant surprise when you return."
Harry turned, surprised to find Professor McGonagall in the doorway. "I agree with Ginny Weasely here, Potter. This has gone on far too long and we've all turned a deaf ear because we felt terrible for you." She studied him until he squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't want to force you to play Quidditch, Potter. But I am forcing you to leave this room for at least an hour. If you don't, all your visiting privileges will be revoked. Am I making myself clear?"
Harry stared moodily at the ground. "Loud and clear."
"Good," she said briskly. "And I, for one, am certainly hoping you'll go out to the Quidditch pitch. It may do you some good."
Ron watched him carefully. "She'll be fine, Harry. The room is working great. Remember Malfoy? No one who means her harm is getting in."
Harry pondered Hermione's still form. "Okay," he finally said, and Ron and Ginny shot him hopeful looks. "Let's get this over with quickly. Ron, get us our Quidditch robes from our dorm. Ginny, get the team together."
They hurried off and Harry gazed at Hermione. "If you can hear me, I'll be back soon, I promise. I just… maybe they're right. I should get out of here for a while..." Bending down, he pressed his lips to hers for a moment before rushing off.
Outside the sun's rays made him squint. The conditions were perfect for Quidditch. Minimal breeze, not too hot, not too cold… it should have been every captain's dream. Harry was far from noticing.
Breezing into the Gryffindor locker room, he found his entire team assembled, their faces long and worried. Their eyes lit up with hope when they saw him. Harry could hear the familiar bangs and yells of the crowd gathering over their heads. Everyone's faces were drawn and nervous. Harry couldn't feel his nerves at all. He was sure they were still in the hospital room with Hermione. He closed his eyes for a moment, overcome by an intense need to have her out in the stands, ready to cheer him on. She said that watching him play terrified her, but that she would go as long as he was playing because it was important to show that she supported him.
He opened his eyes and gathered his Quidditch robes from Ron. "As many of you know," he said, fastening them on. "I've spent the last week in the hospital with Hermione. And," he added, "I'm only here because I have to be."
"Nice speech," Ginny said loudly.
Harry shot her a look. "We will win this match," he said, looking into each face, one by one. "And we will win it quickly. No one will make any mistakes, no one will let a single Quaffle through. We are going to play the best game of Quidditch that we have ever played in our lives. We are going to break every record this school has." The roar of the crowd increased above them. "Do you hear me?" Six faces stared determinedly at him. Harry nodded. "Good."
Harry shook hands with the Slytherin captain, completely ignored all the taunts Malfoy threw in his direction, and was the first to kick off the ground when Madam Houch blew her whistle. He flew up as high as he dared, putting the entire game out of his mind, and concentrated on finding the Snitch. He tuned out the loud cheers in the crowd, keeping his ears attuned for the slight whistle of the Snitch.
Below him, he could vaguely see that his team had taken his message straight to heart. Ginny had already scored twice. Ron had made three huge saves. Malfoy kept getting Bludgers hit in his direction. Slytherin players were flying all over the stadium, trying in vain to keep up with the Gryffindor's faster play.
Harry shut his eyes, concentrating. Malfoy shot by him, crackling. "Taking a nap, Potter?"
Harry squeezed his eyes even tighter together, trying desperately to listen to each nook and cranny of the stadium. Then he heard it. The light whine of the snitch. Eyes flying open, he saw it right away, hovering near the Gryffindor bleachers on the ground.
Harry took off. He'd never willed his Firebolt faster. He could see the earth rushing up to meet him, and he could vaguely hear Malfoy yelling in the distance. The crowd gasped aloud, wondering what he was doing. Harry could see the snitch, just above a blade of brown grass.
The ground was only a few feet away, if he kept going to fast, he would hit it. He forced himself to keep going until the scent of the earth hung in his nostrils. He pulled his broom up, inches above the ground, and swept his hand through the grass, closing around the snitch as he went. He tumbled to a stop, careened off his broom, and held his Snitch out.
The crowd went wild.
"Harry Potter has caught the snitch!" the announcer cried jubilantly. "In a game for the history books, Gryffindor has won 210 to 0! In… oh my… only 3 minutes and 43 seconds. That's got to be some kind of a record!"
The rest of the team landed, grinning broadly. "All right, Harry!" they cried, beaming.
Harry barely noticed them. He gathered up his broom, handed the Snitch back to Madam Houch, and took off back toward the castle, the screaming from the game fading. His stomach clenched painfully, overcome with sudden fear. He began running, desperate to get back. Something was wrong, he could feel it. While they'd all been down at the Quidditch game, someone had snuck into the infirmary unseen…
Head full of horrible imagines of Hermione being attacked while he was away playing Quidditch assaulted his brain. If anything had happened to her, it would all be his fault. What good would he be at protecting her if he left her to play Quidditch? He rounded the final bend, put on a burst of speed, and threw the hospital wing's doors open. He nodded curtly to Madam Pomfrey before diving into Hermione's secluded room.
She was still lying in the same position, unmoved, her chest going up and down, and her hands lying calmly at her sides. No one had been there. No one had seen Hermione while she'd been away. He'd imagined it all.
Harry, feeling ill, sank into his chair next to her bed and covered his face with his hands. "What's wrong with me?" he whispered, to the empty air. Ginny, Ron, and McGonagall were right. This couldn't be healthy. "Hermione, you'd best wake up soon. Because I'm starting to go crazy."
He thought he saw her eye twitch, but, when nothing else happened, figured he was imagining that, too.
Harry looked up suddenly, hearing a squish, squish noise. The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, wearing matching, beaming smiles stood in the entrance to Hermione's room. Harry felt himself smile. "Hey guys," he greeted, quietly.
Ron smiled back at him. "We thought you could use some company."
"Plus!" Ginny added. "Time to celebrate!"
"Oh, yeah!" Gregory Smith, one of their beaters, chimed in. "Professor McGonagall said that we broke all kinds of school records." His eyes lit up. "Then she started to get all teary, said quite a lot of nice things about you, Harry."
"It was really quite disgusting," Ron said.
"She's, uh, very proud of you, Harry." Ginny said.
The entire team nodded as one. "That was quite the inspirational speech," David Green, a chaser, said.
"Nearly brought tears to my eyes." Ron said. "Plus, Hermione did okay, didn't she?"
Harry nodded tiredly. "I didn't, though."
The team shared worried looks. Ginny approached him slowly. "It's natural that you'd be worried."
"Panicked," Harry said. "I was in a panic… I was so sure that something had happened…"
Ron sighed. "Harry, it's okay. Look… the only reason I'm not as messed up over this whole things is because you're more than messed up enough for the both of us."
"Thanks, Ron. That made me feel loads better."
Ginny shot her brother an irritated look. "Harry… you know better than all of us what's she's going through. Just because you're acting a tad obsessive doesn't mean…"
Harry stood up. "Okay, I know you guys are trying to help and all, but…"
"We'll shut up," Ron said quickly.
"And pass the Butterbeer!" David Green cried out, pulling a bunch of bottles out from under his robes.
Harry looked at it hesitantly and then glanced at Hermione. "Aww, come on, Harry," Ron needled. "Hermione would have wanted you to celebrate. Probably be damn proud of you, too." He grinned wickedly. "That is, if she hadn't had a near heart attack watching you go into that dive."
"Ron, shush," Harry said faintly. "She might hear you."
They all stared at him.
"It was a joke," Harry said, a little weakly.
"It was a nice dive," said their youngest player, Christine Turner, a second-year who played chaser with Ginny and Gregory Smith.
There was a general nod of agreement. Harry reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled into a Butterbeer drinking game, and soon they were all giggling and rolling around on the floor.
"The look on Malfoy's face!" Ron yelled out.
They all hooted with laughter and decided that Hermione should land in the hospital before every game, just so they would always be that inspired. Harry halfheartedly tried to curse them with his wand, but the room did it for him, by throwing out Gregory Smith (who had made the comment) and everyone who had laughed at it. Harry, much to his chagrin, also found himself lying in a tangle of arms and legs outside the hospital wing. This only managed to send them into further hysterics and it was quite a while before they managed to calm themselves.
Finally, Madame Pomfrey grew tired of their antics and threatened to kick them all out. "My patients need REST!" she yelled. "And don't think for one minute that I won't throw the whole lot of you out of here (yes, even you, Potter) because no one can sleep with the way you're carrying on!"
The team nodded and filed out of the hospital wing, patting Harry happily on the back as they went. Once the Butterbeer and the cheer was gone, Harry felt himself fall into a stupor again. He looked at Ron, who had taken a seat next to Hermione and was reading from their History of Magic textbook.
Ron shook his head. "I can't believe it, Harry. She finally managed to get me to do my History of Magic homework. Bloody miracle. Book's almost as dull as Binns himself and that's saying something."
Harry nodded. "Ron, I think I need to get out of here for a while. Maybe eat dinner at the Great Hall. I dunno."
Ron set the book down. "I think that would probably be a good idea."
"Will you stay with her? I don't want her to be alone… and I don't really trust anyone else."
Ron scowled. "Of course I'll stay with her. Don't know why you're so trusting, though. Planning on telling her what a great big git you are, you know. Maybe when she wakes up she'll have a change of heart."
"Yeah. Okay."
Ron frowned, suddenly worried. "Did you even hear any of that?"
Harry sighed. "I heard all of it. And I think you're right."
Ron looked even more worried. "Right about what?"
Harry shrugged and got up. "It should have been you."
And he left, leaving Ron staring open mouthed at his back. "Totally mad, Hermione," he muttered to her still form. "I mean, you were always mental. But he's lost all his marbles. Really quite sad, actually." Ron blinked at her for a moment and shook his head. "Do you know? I think he might just be a little in love with you."
Hermione let out a small moan.
Ron stared at her, his eyes widening. "Blimey!" he cried, tumbling backwards. "HARRY?" he shouted, looking frantically around the abandoned infirmary. "MADAM POMFREY!"
Ron was afraid that maybe she had decided to go to the Great Hall and eat as well, or something, because it took her a good five minutes before she stuck her head boredly into the room. "Yes, Weasley?"
Ron's finger shook as he pointed to Hermione. "I think…" he gulped. "I think she's waking up."
-------
Harry barely picked at his food. Dinner should have been a festive occasion. It was for most of the Gryffindors. They were all still talking about his incredible Quidditch victory that afternoon. He'd even received a loud roar of applause (the Slytherin table notwithstanding, of course) when he'd entered.
It made him feel slightly sick. He should be down in the infirmary, by Hermione's bedside, doing his homework quietly with Ron and pretending that their friendship was as strong as it ever was. Instead he was in the Great Hall, picking at food that he didn't want, listening to people go over every sordid detail of the Quidditch match, and feeling increasingly guilty.
Of course, he felt guilty every time he looked at Hermione, as well, so it wasn't actually that big a change. His stomach turned over thinking about what he'd said to Ron. Because, in his heart of hearts, he knew the truth. If Hermione had been dating Ron, she would not have ended up in the hospital, she would not have faced crucio, and she would not be in a coma.
By rights, she shouldn't have ended up with him at all. She'd liked Ron, she'd said so herself. Ron liked her. How she ended up snogging Harry in the common room one night was a complete and utter mystery.
He looked up suddenly, feeling eyes on him. His gaze traveled through the Great Hall and he went very still.
Snape.
Harry felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over him. The anger that surged through him was hot and powerful and a welcome relief to the nagging guilt. Why hadn't he realized it before? Why hadn't he remembered? Snape was the one who had read their note. Snape was the one who let the entire school know that he and Hermione were an item. Snape was the reason Jane Noxon ever found out about it. Snape was the reason Hermione was in the hospital.
Harry sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing as he met Snape's eyes. He felt shaking anger. Everything could have been prevented. None of this had to have happen. If Snape had just kept that damn note to himself, had just given them detention or taken points or sent them into the damn Forbidden Forest, none of this would have happened.
Harry grabbed his wand and left the Great Hall, amidst loud bursts of applause and cheer. He ignored it. He climbed up to the Gryffindor common room, which was, thankfully, empty. He paced back and forth, his entire body shaking, the anger burning in his gut until he felt bile rise in his throat.
Resolved, he set off for the dungeons. His head buzzed in slight fear and some part of him recognized that if Snape didn't kill him, Hermione would. He didn't care. Reaching the Potions' room, he was too agitated to sit and he paced back and forth, wanting Snape to appear so he could stop feeling so angry, stop feeling that desperate urge that someone had to pay.
He didn't have to wait long. The slight shaking of the floor above him alerted Harry to the fact that dinner was over and students were returning to their dorm rooms. Harry turned to the door and waited. He clutched his wand in his hands, feeling lightheaded.
When Snape entered, Harry felt smug to see him slightly surprised for once. He quickly pushed the surprise away and his lip curled. "Potter. What an unpleasant surprise. What do you want?"
Harry's hands were shaking. "It's your fault," he said quietly.
Snape looked slightly taken aback. "What are you talking about?"
"Hermione," Harry answered calmly, willing his body to stop shaking. "You read that stupid note and now she's in the hospital! She was stunned and tortured and went through unspeakable pain. AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"
Snape's nose flared warningly. "Much of the faculty in this school believe that you should be given special… allowances… for your grief. I do not, Potter. And I will not allow you to speak to me in that tone."
Harry kicked one of the desks. "YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO READ THAT NOTE! HERMIONE DOESN'T DESERVE IT!"
"Don't you dare raise your voice to me." Snape advanced on him. "It was my fault, was it, Potter? And who was the one who wrote the note in the first place? Who was the one who put it down on paper for everyone to see?" Snape shook his head in disgust. "This is far from being my fault."
Harry couldn't think. He could hear a loud roaring in his ears. It was Snape's fault… it was Snape's fault… it was Snape's fault…. He raised his wand.
Snape's mouth curled into a contorted smile. "Oh, please, go right ahead. It would only make me too happy to be the one that finally enjoys expelling you, Potter."
Harry blinked and closed his eyes, willing for his head to stop roaring so loud. He slowly lowered his wand.
Snape regarded him icily for a few more moments. "Very well. Hand me your wand."
Harry recoiled, pulling his wand close to his chest. "No."
Snape's eyes glinted in the dark. "If you think that you can go around threatening teachers at your whim, you are very much mistaken. You and I will be taking a trip to see the Headmaster. Hand over your wand, Potter."
Harry gritted his teeth. Humiliated, he held it out. Snape snatched it from his hand, a self-satisfied leer on his face. Snape prodded him with his own wand. "You first."
Harry crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling vulnerable and tired. Staring at the ground he allowed Snape to steer him through Hogwarts' corridors, towards Dumbledore's office. Never before had he wished so much for Hermione. She was the only one who always knew what to say when he was upset. She was the only one who wouldn't let him get away with hiding or blaming other people.
Snape jabbed him none too gently between the shoulder blades. "Move it," he hissed.
Harry picked up his pace, his legs feeling like rubber. People were staring at them now as they passed. Harry looked at the ground and tried to imagine what Hermione would say if she knew what he'd nearly done.
Attacking a Hogwarts teacher??? But you'll be expelled for sure, Harry! Then what will you do?
Snape jabbed him again and Harry suspected that it was just for pure amusement. They reached Dumbledore's office and Snape said the password in such a low voice that Harry couldn't hear it. Feeling dazed, Snape led him up the stairs. Fawkes squawked when she saw him and Harry smiled slightly, feeling as though he had at least one friend.
Dumbledore looked up from his desk and studied Harry and then Snape with a mild expression. "Severus, Harry, what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Don't move!" Snape barked at Harry before approaching Dumbledore with Harry's wand outstretched in his fingers. "Headmaster, I am decidedly sorry to report…"
Harry couldn't quite contain his snort.
Snape whirled around to glare at him. "Careful, Potter. You're already in enough trouble as it is." He turned back to Dumbledore and continued in hushed tones so that Harry couldn't hear him.
Harry didn't care. He wandered over to Fawkes and lightly stroked the bird's head. Fawkes leaned toward him, nuzzling his fingers affectionately. He heard Snape leave and didn't move. He continued to pat Fawkes, staring blankly off into space. He vaguely heard Dumbledore moving around.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Harry…"
Harry didn't turn. "I'm sorry, Professor," he whispered. "I'm very sorry."
To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore didn't yell, didn't express any disappointment, didn't even talk to him in that maddening calm-tone that always made Harry feel has if he'd done the most horrible crime in the world. Instead he came to stand next to him and held out Harry's wand. With slight amusement twinkling in his blue eyes, he said, "Harry, please try and refrain from threatening anyone with this thing for a while, hmmm?"
Harry nodded bleakly, accepting the wand. He shoved it into his robes, comforted to feel its weight against him again. "I won't."
Dumbledore sighed. "Professor Snape tells me that you threatened to attack him."
Harry looked at him and decided to be honest. "I wanted to. I thought that it was entirely his fault for letting the wizarding community know about me and Hermione. But it wasn't his fault, really. We were the ones that wrote the note. I guess… I guess I needed to pretend that it wasn't really because of me that Hermione was tortured. Anything was better than the guilt."
"He also told me," Dumbledore continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "That you didn't."
Harry shrugged.
Dumbledore put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It takes a very powerful wizard, indeed, to be able to see logic despite overpowering emotions."
Harry smiled slightly. "Hermione was always brilliant at that. She never lost her head. And she always let me know when I lost mine." Harry stopped. Thinking about Hermione was painful.
Dumbledore looked unbearably sad. "I never wanted you to grow up this fast."
Harry couldn't watch him anymore. He hated to see that Dumbledore was prone to the same emotions and weaknesses as everyone else. He stroked Fawkes again. "I think I grew up a long time ago."
"Harry… there is one thing that concerns me." Harry kept his eyes on Fawkes, certain that he knew what Dumbledore was going to say. It was something he'd been thinking himself.
What Dumbledore was going to say, however, was silenced with the entrance of Professor McGonagall. She hurried up the stairs, her cheeks slightly flushed. She broke out into a radiant smile as her gaze swept over the room.
"It's Granger," she said. "She's awake."
----
Meanwhile…
Ron thought that he had to be dreaming. Of all the times Hermione could have chosen to come out of her coma…
Hermione moaned again.
Madame Pomfrey gasped.
Ron glared at her. "I wasn't lying, you know!"
"Yes… of course, dear…" she replied, distracted. She hovered over Hermione, looking as though she wasn't quite sure what to do. Ron was horrified to hear her mutter, "Never actually believed the poor girl would wake up."
Ron shoved her out of the way. He grasped Hermione's hand and leaned forward. "Hermione?" No response. He tried again. "Hermione… it's me. Wake up. I know you're trying to."
He felt her hand clench around his. Ron peered at her hopefully.
"Harry?" she whispered, faintly.
Ron thought she might as well plunge a sword straight through his hear. It might have been less painful, actually.
He grit his teeth. "No," he said, trying to sound calm. "It's me… Ron. You know, red-hair, sometimes kind of an idiot, likes to bicker…"
Her lips curved into a slight smile. "Ron…"
Pleased, he nodded. "Yeah, okay, so you remember me. That's good. Um… let's see… how many classes are you taking this semester?"
Hermione's eyes opened, and she squinted up at him slightly bewildered. "Classes?" she said, sounding lost.
"Oh. Dear. Merlin." He gestured to Madame Pomfrey. "DO SOMETHING!" he hollered. "SHE CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT CLASSES SHE'S TAKING!"
Madame Pomfrey's eyes crinkled with worry. She felt Hermione's forehead. "It doesn't appear to be warm…"
Ron's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "That's it?" he squeaked, in a choked voice. "That's the best you can come up with." He glanced at Hermione again, feeling increasingly panicked. "Bloody hell! Bloody, bloody, bloody hell! BUGGER! BUGGER! BUGGER!"
"I'll go… fetch a professor," Madame Pomfrey said faintly.
Ron stared open mouthed at her. "Yeah, you go do that!" he hissed, to her retreating back. "And I'll…" he trailed off, noticing that Hermione was watching him fearfully.
"Ron, where's Harry?" she asked, struggling to sit up. She winced in pain, and lay back down again. She shut her eyes tightly. "Things are so confused…"
Ron felt himself breathing heavily. "I can go find Harry if you want!" he shouted. "It's… he was right here a moment ago. He's barely left your bedside, really. I don't understand why he's not here! Bugger, bugger, bugger!"
Hermione gripped his hand with sudden, panicked force. "Don't leave… don't leave me alone…"
Ron tried to steady himself. "Okay. It's okay. Everything is fine. I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He sat on the bed next to her, smoothed down her hair. "See? I'm right here. You're not a alone… you're very much not alone…"
Hermione's breathing was ragged. "Everything hurts… so very much… I don't really understand what happened… Ron?"
"Shhh," he said, trying to be soothing. "It's okay now. Nothing can hurt you."
Her eyes fluttered open again and studied his face. "What happened?" she swallowed. "Where's Harry?"
Ron felt his heart beating very fast. How the hell did he know where Harry went? "He'll be back soon, Hermione. Just… try and relax or something."
Hermione's eyes filled with tears.
The roar in Ron's head suddenly increased. Bloody, bugger, hell! "Don't cry…" he pleaded. "Harry'll be here any second."
Hermione sniffled. "I know… I remember. All of it. You and Harry, you've been here the whole time, and… and you read from your History of Magic textbook and…" she frowned. "You said Harry went into a dangerous Quidditch dive."
"Harry, Harry, Harry!" Ron snapped. "There are other people in the world! Sheesh!"
Hermione's grip on his hand, if possible, actually increased. "Is he okay? He's not blaming himself too much is he?"
Ron thought he might explode. "Well, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."
Hermione smiled, but closed her eyes in pain. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered.
Ron stared at her in surprise. "Hermione…" he whispered, a little hoarsely. "I am so glad that you're awake."
"You're just tired of taking your own notes."
"You found me out," he said softly, smoothing a hand over her brow. His eyes widened. "Bloody hell, Hermione, you're heating up. I can't believe that woman calls herself a nurse."
Hermione winced. "She's an excellent nurse. She just… doesn't really understand what to do for me, is all."
"Hermione," Ron said desperately. "I don't know what to do for you."
"You better think of something soon… because I think I might pass out."
BLOODY, BUGGER, HELL! Ron looked around the room, feeling his hands begin to shake. His gaze landed on the sink. "I'm not leaving," he said urgently, letting go of her hand. "I'm right here, I'm just going to the sink…" Ron filled a basin up with cool water and set a piece of cloth in it.
"Mum used to do this all the time when we got sick at the Burrow," he said, wiping down her forehead. "It really helped. She always said the common cold was the one thing that magic had yet to find a cure for."
"Modern science, too," she whispered, sounding distinctly fainter.
Ron didn't know what she was talking about. He hoped that it was some Muggle thing, and that she wasn't losing all her marbles. He wasn't planning on holding his breath, however. "Stay with me, Hermione," he pleaded, wiping down her forehead again.
She just nodded. "I really hope Harry gets back soon."
Ron resisted the urge to start cursing aloud again.
TBC