Disclaimer: First, I do not own Harry Potter (obviously). That credit belongs to the loffly and talented J.K. Rowling. Got that all cleared up? Good.
Author's Notes: Thanks for all of the nice reviews :) Trust me, I really appreciate all of it. And regretably Nitya for *cough* making that rec thread *cough* And also for your reactions whenever I gave you snippets of the story here and there! Thanks to Jennifer for beta-ing this yet again(even though, I'm sure she has better things to do *laughs*). Anyway, this chapter was a pain to write, so I hope you enjoy!
Summary: Love is a rollercoaster. But what happens after the big drop?
Chapter Two:
"Harry..." she breathed as she approached the lifeless figure lying on the grass. Her voice hitched in her throat as she struggled to maintain her resolve. Everything seemed so unreal, yet not. She had seen this exact same visage in her dreams many times before over the past seven years, that her first instinct was to believe that it was yet another one of those dreams. However, she knew what she was watching before her was most definitely not a product of her imagination. It was real...all too real. The chills running throughout her body was certainly enough to confirm this.
She crouched down low to the ground to examine Harry closer. Hesitantly reaching out a hand towards him, she suppressed a shudder. It wasn't the first time Hermione had seen him completely motionless, but it was the first time his skin had felt as icy cold as the pit of her stomach. Her hands were slightly shaking as she grabbed his wrist feeling for a pulse, or any sign that he wasn't dead.
"What if he really was dead?" she thought to herself, still clutching at his wrist somewhat desperately. She could scarcely fathom what a world without Harry would be like. There had existed a girl before who knew nothing of the existence of Harry Potter, nor a world full of magic and mayhem. She knew nothing of Dark Lords and Quidditch, nor of hippogriffs and house elves. But that girl disappeared a long time ago. She could hardly remember such a time now. Harry was as much as a part of her life as ever and nothing would ever be the same since she stepped through the threshold of Hogwarts.
She waited silently beside him for a few moments, looking around for help, but no one was there. A few faint blurs in the distance were zooming around the Quidditch field, but they were far too much away to notice anything odd and unusual happening on the grounds. Both Harry and Hermione were quite alone, with no one but each other for company. In an instant, everything seemed to rush by in a flurry. She felt something pulsing in her grasp. Her breathing began quickening as everything was finally beginning to register in her mind. That was a pulse, Hermione was sure of it. He's alive! Her mind was pulling her in a thousand directions all at once. It was one of those rare moments in her life in which a single, coherent answer to a situation was not making an instant appearance. Such a powerful wave of relief swept through Hermione that for a moment she felt light-headed.
"What do I do now?" Hermione thought anxiously. Her logical side was telling her to stay here and wait for help, not to disturb his body. But her rarely seen impulsive side was pleading with her to support his weight and carry him all the way back to the castle. "Who can think logically at a time like this?" she asked herself vehemently, gently moving Harry's limp form into a sitting position. Once she finally had him on his feet, her arms and shoulders were already sagging from his weight. Hermione found it remarkable that a rather scrawny teenage boy could weigh her down so. Then again, she was never one for physical work. Harry was the brawn of the infamous trio, no doubts about that. Things were different now, she reminded herself. There was always a time for shifts and changes...now was one of those times.
The walk back up to the castle felt more time consuming than ever before. Those minutes felt like hours to her. Who knows what would happen to the pair of them after this moment. But Hermione wasn't thinking far beyond the present. Even she was unclear about where exactly to go from here. Time could have stopped for all she knew. There was so much she could do in those fragments of seconds, and yet so much that she could not do. The seconds, minutes seemed to stretch on forever. But she didn't pay it any mind, and, shifting slightly, she went on.
The castle was near now, a welcoming gray haven set against the now darkening backdrop of the sky. Once she got there, she decided, she would head straight for the hospital wing. Granted, the state that Harry was now in was not good, and it would be best to have him treated right away. Her mind burning with questions of what had happened and how it did, she went into the school and walked to the hospital wing, silently hoping no one would cross her way.
Hermione had reached the hospital wing doors in what seemed like hours, yet she knew that was certainly not accurate. Being that her full upper body was supporting Harry's lifeless body, she kicked the doors gently, praying that Madam Pomfrey would be quick to react. Sure enough, the doors opened barely a few moments later.
As soon as the Hogwarts nurse's eyes set themselves on Harry's body, she gasped at the sight of his bad state. "That boy's gotten himself into a fit of trouble again, hasn't he?" she murmured to herself. "Quickly, Miss Granger," she said to the girl, indicating to a nearby bed, "set him here. Good thing that you bought him here now, or it would have been a lot worse." She bustled about, whispering to herself, running spells and incantations through her mind. "Who knows what would have happened."
Hermione preferred not to think about that, instead focusing all her attention on the battered body on the bed before her. She found it increasingly difficult with each passing second to take her eyes off of him. Never had she seen him look as worse for wear as he did then. Regardless of this, she still couldn't comprehend how peaceful, almost serene, he appeared to be. She couldn't keep from looking at his expressionless face, while something inside of her broke. Hermione wasn't sure what it could be, but everything seemed to fade away from reality. Then the tears came crashing down.
Madam Pomfrey turned around to glance at Hermione, looking slightly alarmed. "Oh dear," she said softly, walking swiftly towards the stricken girl. "That won't help him, you know. I can't make any promises that he'll be alright, but I'll do what I can. If that's not enough, then we can send him to St. Mungo's, where he will be in more capable hands."
Tears still streaming down her face, Hermione nodded grimly. What Madam Pomfrey was saying did absolutely nothing to alleviate her fears. If anything, it worsened them. Was it really that hard to imagine a life without Harry? Certainly, the very thought had crossed her mind various times over the past seven years. She had always kept him on a short leash for fear that he would do something rash and drastic. It came as no surprise to her that something like this would happen. However, that didn't make her feel any better about it all. If she lost Harry, then a piece of herself was lost with him.
All around the classroom bells rung, releasing a horde of bustling students, talking animatedly to one another, without the knowledge that one of their classmates was toeing the thin line between life and death. Most of their worries and cares stemmed from the curiosity of receiving their exam results in a few days time. Hermione once had those same worries herself, but now they seemed so petty and worthless compared to what she was worrying about at this moment. But it was all a matter of time before news of this broke out all over the wizarding world. The result would be an instant uproar that Hermione was certainly not keen on witnessing. It was hard enough with Harry lying before her unconscious and barely breathing, but to add a pack of muckraking and ruthless reporters who'd do anything to get a scoop on the latest gossip of the Potter variety, was incomprehensible.
"This will only take a second, Miss Granger," said Madam Pomfrey striding purposefully towards the doors. "I need to notify Professor Dumbledore as quickly as possible. I'm sure you don't need telling twice to stay close to him and never leave Mr. Potter of your sight?"
Hermione gave the smallest of nods, still refusing to take her eyes off of Harry's face. She couldn't help but feel a bit more helpful after registering Madam Pomfrey's statement. If there was one person that could handle the situation with near ease, it was Dumbledore. Over the years, they had gotten quite used to Dumbledore being able to fix just about anything or smooth something over spectacularly. However, no matter how powerful you are or how much good or evil you could accomplish, you're still human with human weaknesses. Both Harry and Dumbledore were interesting examples of this. They were held in high esteem by the majority of witches and wizards out there, they each had their moments of grandeur and glory, of death and extraordinary heroics. But how long could that façade possibly be kept up? How long would it take for that person to finally breakdown or fail.
She had wished people would see Harry as a human, rather than their savior or their hero. Every witch and wizard felt they were entitled to a piece of him somehow because of all the good he had done. To many, Harry was but a simple barrier standing between them and their greatest fears. And Harry himself had always felt obligated to live up to his ominous reputation as The-Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione had always felt the same way particularly as Hogwarts' Head Girl this year. Everyone had their expectations already laid out for her, so there was nothing left to do, but to meet them. She had heard it said that she was "perfect." Hermione constantly laughed at that continuously, or rather scoffed. She was no more perfect than, say, Ron. That only appeared to be false on the exterior, because she rarely, if ever, let anyone see her faults and vulnerability. Harry, being one of them.
He was exactly the same way. Hermione had seen those sides of him, that Harry wasn't willing to show others. She had seen him cry on more than one occasion or bellow his frustrations out, especially during the most recent couple of years. They were they're personal outlets. The ones that would hold you tight when you were feeling down or calm an angry soul with just one look, or perhaps a stern word or two. She hated to be sappy or terribly cliché, but they literally completed one another.
Oh, she could sit by Harry's side for hours. After all of the times he had spent in the hospital wing, lying unconscious by reason of dementors, or even perhaps Quidditch. She vaguely wondered if Harry had ever done the same for her during her time spent lying on one of this small, sterile hospital beds. Did he perhaps feel as helpless then as she did now? Hermione reached out her arm and grabbed a hold of his hand tightly, grasping as if his very life depended on it. His skin was still as cold as ever. Somehow, Hermione was reminded of the deep, icy, plunging feeling she had felt while encountering a dementor for the first time. She could recall the horrid memories that flashed through her mind as dementor approached them during their third year aboard the Hogwarts Express. She had wondered what memories would resurface if she was to confront a dementor these days. Being called a 'freak' at her old primary school. Crying in the girls' bathroom just before encountering a fully-grown mountain troll. Fluffy. Those vividly green eyes of the basilisk just before she had been petrified. Harry falling 50 feet off of his broomstick. Harry flying against a Hungarian Horntail. Harry shouting at her and Ron repeatedly. Finding out Harry had kissed Cho. Harry this and Harry that...My God, the list could go on and on with details about how most of her worst memories seemed to involve Harry in some way.
Finding Harry lying in the grass by the edge of the lake was, by far, at the very top of this list of horrific moments. If, by some miracle, he lived through all of this, there was absolutely no way she would ever let him out of her sight. Knowing Harry, he wouldn't go for that plan at all. Oh well, thought Hermione. It's for his own damn good. She couldn't bear yet another one of his rash impulses to run away. How many times had he done that exactly? One time too many.
Watching him closely, she noticed his chest hitching raggedly, up and down. Surely, that wasn't a normal occurrence. Oh, please get here soon, she silently pleaded to Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore, who had yet to make it to the hospital wing. What was even worse was the fact that his complexion was growing paler by the second and the touch of his skin sent a rush of mind-numbing cold down her spine. No, this wasn't normal at all. She broke her eyes away from Harry's face, unable to look at him any longer, and simply stared at the doors as if daring them to open.
Barely a few seconds later, Professor Dumbledore strode in the hospital wing, his usually elegant robes, hanging off of him loosely in a way that only Professor Lupin's could. Madam Pomfrey was right on his heals, looking more anxious than ever. Dumbledore stopped next to Harry's bed and peered down at him, taking in the boy's terrible state. For just a second there, Hermione thought she had glimpsed something that looking remarkably like a tear, but after observing closer, she saw nothing there. He turned to look at Hermione and said calmly, "Where did you find him?"
Hermione looked down at her feet, unable to look into that solemn face of Dumbledore's, and said slowly, "Near the edge of the lake. I was just walking around and I had noticed him lying on the grass, crumpled and-" She broke off, not wanting to delve into farther about the thoughts whizzing through her mind at that moment in time.
Dumbledore stared her for a few seconds, then turned back to examine Harry once more. After awhile, he glanced at Madam Pomfrey and said quietly, "He'll have to be taken to St.Mungo's. There's nothing we can do for him here, Poppy."