A/N: Well, thank you very much for all the lovely reviews I got on the last chapter (and keep it up! Constructive criticism also greatly encouraged…), and here is the next chapter, rather later than intended, but here it is. Work is already well in motion on the next two chapters (yes, that's two- long story), and I should be able to get the next one up on Saturday at the latest. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please, review!
Love Will Come Through
Chapter Six: Awake
"Harry?"
Her voice came raspingly at him as he stared, unmoving, down at her- suddenly the doll had become real, the stone had leapt to life, the dead had risen again. For all that he had seen her in the memories and the pictures, to be confronted with the actual reality sent a juddering shock through his heart, a creeping sense of familiarity rising and then, just as quickly, vanishing.
He stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet, still looking wide-eyed at the figure, slowly moving, on the bed below. She was looking at him, hope and confusion and, dear god, love filling her eyes, and it petrified him. He moved back further and hit the neighbouring bed, unconsciously falling onto it and sitting there, almost frozen in his alarmed state.
Her head had turned to face him, eyes blinking at him, and he watched as she pushed herself up awkwardly to rest against the cold metal bars of the headboard. She shivered as her body made contact with the thick iron through her thin cotton pyjamas, but her gaze did not break.
"Harry?" she said again, more nervously. He swallowed. "Are you alright?"
He felt sweaty, panicked. What was he supposed to say? 'Sorry, I know we were like, in love and stuff, but I can't remember a thing about you'? His throat constricted; even if he had had words to say, he couldn't have said them.
"Harry? Say something," she said, a trace of desperation seeping into her voice, the realization that something was seriously wrong slowly dawning on her. It showed in her face; her faint smile changed to a tiny 'oh' shape and her brow furrowed. "Please, Harry, what is it?"
She was struggling against the constricting bed sheets, but they had been wrapped so tightly under the mattress that her legs were stranded beneath them, and she broke her gaze for the first time as she pulled at them more desperately, her breath slowly escalating in speed, her eyes panicked.
"… was just a stunner, I think, Miss Weasley; you'll be fine…"
Hermione froze at the sudden sound of approaching voices, audible even through the thick hospital wing door, and both she and Harry looked around to the door, where shadows danced in the sliver of light shining dully beneath it. A hand was scraping at the doorknob. It opened with a creak, the bustling figure of Madam Pomfrey appearing before the scarred face of Ginny, holding her bloody hand in a plush white towel, and followed by a seemingly ambivalent Neville.
"But what about the blood, Madam Pomfrey, it just won't sto-"
They all froze, seemingly seeing the scene before them in unison, and Ginny let out a shrill scream of surprise, bashing Madam Pomfrey's elbow as she ran over in a dazzling flash, almost leaping on Hermione. The towel had dropped to the floor as she ran, and her path was immediately marked with a trail of blood.
"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed in delight, arms flying around the stunned figure who had been struggling with her bed sheets. As her arm hit Hermione's back, Ginny seemed to realize she was still injured and flinched, withdrawing her damaged arm quickly, though she clung on with her good limb, pressing her face into Hermione's shoulder.
"Merlin's wand- Miss Granger!" said Madam Pomfrey breathlessly, hand flying to her chest. Neville looked startled, but calmly walked over, glancing nervously at Harry as he sat down on the end of Hermione's bed, receiving a mutual smile from her over Ginny's shoulder.
It sounded suspiciously like Ginny was sobbing into Hermione's shoulder, and it took the prying fingers of Madam Pomfrey to remove her from Hermione's shivering form, giving the forgotten towel back to Ginny and instructing the misty-eyed Weasley child to sit down next to Harry.
Harry watched absently as Madam Pomfrey thoroughly examined Hermione, eyes avoiding Hermione's at the frequent intervals when she looked over at him, worry still prevalent in her gaze. Ginny was glancing between them as she held the towel firmly around her wrist, her other hand wiping at her eyes as she sniffed. Harry rested a hand comfortingly on her forearm, but she pushed it away quickly without looking at him.
There was silence as Madam Pomfrey poked, prodded and waved her wand over Hermione, pushing her patient back down into her lying position and forcefully folding the covers back over her, finishing her examinations with an insistent "You need to lie down, Miss Granger". Hermione looked annoyed but said nothing, and Madam Pomfrey turned, gesturing Ginny into her office and leaving Hermione, Neville and Harry alone.
Hermione looked meaningfully at Harry, who quickly shifted his gaze to the floor, and so Hermione turned to Neville.
"Neville," she said in a threatening tone, "since Harry won't tell me what's going on, would you be so kind?" She finished with a forced, awkward smile, and Neville sighed heavily, resigned to the worst.
"Um," he started with a bite of his lip, trying to ignore Hermione's dagger-like stares and Harry's off-putting shoe scuffs, "well, you see, Hermione, I don't know if I should…"
Hermione, constricted by her bed sheets, nevertheless managed quite a sharp kick to Neville's hip. He yelped. "Neville," she said warningly, arching an eyebrow.
He protested. "It's not that simple! How would like to tell someone that the person they love has-" he broke off suddenly, seeming to realizing he'd been about to blurt it out in one go.
Hermione almost swallowed her tongue as she pushed mightily against her blankets. "Has what?" she said insistently. "Tell me!"
Neville closed his eyes, and the momentary quiet was filled by the sounds of Ginny yelping "Ow! No, that hurts!" Harry looked at Hermione, eyes wide as she stared forcefully at Neville; and at Neville, face distraught as he tried to make a decision. Harry made it for him.
"I can't remember you," he said hollowly, making the air suddenly pregnant with nervous apprehension. Hermione's head snapped to look at him, and Neville's eyes popped open, surprise and embarrassment showing on his face.
Hermione frowned. "What do you mean, you can't remember me?"
Harry sighed, head hanging low. "Voldemort's final spell was a memory charm, of sorts," he said, words heavy with an empty weight. "I killed him, but he obliterated every memory I have of you."
Hermione's eyes bulged in shock. "You… I… every memory?" she spluttered, pushing valiantly against her cotton shackles. They did not budge, and she was left looking distressingly hopeless, a lost girl losing everything at once.
Harry looked away, chewing fiercely on his lip. "Yes."
Hermione looked desperately at Neville, who looked back sadly: a confirmation for Hermione, whose eyes beamed with sudden tears. She looked back at Harry, who couldn't face her distraught expression. "Come here, Harry," she said forcefully, voice thick with emotion.
Harry glassily complied, standing awkwardly next to Hermione's bed- her hands were trapped beneath the bed-sheets, so she could not touch him. Her eyes still brimmed with tears, but she defied them, ordering Harry to look at her.
He did so, eyes dull and lifeless, and she almost gasped, astonished at the lack of recognition she saw there; fighting it, she took a deep breath, and kept her gaze firmly unbroken.
"You aren't gone, Harry," she said loudly, her words strong and rebellious. "You know me, you do," she insisted. "Look," she said, softening her voice, a soothing, gentle tone, "you know me," she whispered.
He felt her eyes almost burning into his, but there was no return of the spark he had felt initially- this was just a girl, just a person, just a stranger. This was not even the person he had seen in Ginny's memories- that girl had been slightly aloof, obsessively book-smart, warm but rather distant- but the girl he could see before him, the girl staring desperately at him, was different. She seemed to see directly into him, see things he did not even know were there. She had no barriers, no secrets, and even he, who could not remember it, could see the love in her eyes, the frantic searching of himself for something she recognised.
He shook his head, simply to clear his head of these thoughts, but he heard her gasp and immediately knew she had taken his movement as denial of her words. He dared not look back, and he heard her make a guttural cry of hopelessness, of unnerving loss, and he knew that she knew. She had not found what she had expected.
He stumbled away again, feet headed to the door almost without him realizing it, running as fast as he could from Hermione's pained sobs, something within him deeply, deeply afraid of them- and, before Neville had even moved, Harry had vanished down the corridor, Hermione's wrenching cries echoing in the hospital wing behind him.
*~*~*
The rain kept raging overhead, but Ron, almost in defiance of some unknown force, stayed firmly put, shivering from the rain but ignoring it. He and Luna sat there silently for almost half an hour, the rain slackening slightly, each feeling strangely comfortable next to each other. When an owl suddenly taking off from a decrepit tree nearby made a branch fall nosily to the ground, Ron seemed to emerge from his reverie, and he looked at Luna, who had laid her head on his shoulder and was staring dreamily at the dark sky.
"Luna, you'll freeze," he said, softer than he had intended, and she smiled without moving her gaze.
"So will you, Ronald," she whispered back, and Ron couldn't stop a small smile playing on his lips. But, despite the warmth her body was giving him, he was still shivering, and he could feel Luna twitching slightly too, so he put his arms around her and lifted her up to stand.
"We have to go inside," he insisted, and she gazed up at him, eyes sparkling. Now that he was coming with her, she seemed to accept his insistence, and he led her under the archway to the walkway, where students, free of classes for another day, were milling lazily about. No one looked at the bedraggled pair as they wound their way back into the castle.
They were walking down an empty corridor, Ron absently wondering where the Ravenclaw common room was, when suddenly the door they were walking towards burst open, the tall, cloaked figures of Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout and Nymphadora Tonks strode quickly through it, heads crouched close in conversation even as they almost hit Ron and Luna, who fell flat against the wall.
"… so suddenly, Minerva? But surely there has to be reason?" Flitwick squeaked as they passed the young pair without seeming to notice them.
Ron looked after them and saw Professor McGonagall shake her head. "Apparently Harry was just standing there and she suddenly awoke," she said breathlessly, and Ron felt his heart jolt, eyes wide as the door clanked shut behind the three figures.
He immediately dropped his hands from Luna, who looked at him, a faintly confused expression on her face. Ron was already running after the adults, and, without looking back, yelled, "Sorry, Luna, I have to go!"
Luna watched him vanish through the door and smiled softly, her whispered, "Goodbye, Ronald," hanging in the air as she walked off in the opposite direction, a shiver running down her spine.
*~*~*
There was simply nothing to be done with Hermione, concluded a disheartened Ginny as she sat beside Neville, both silently looking over at the muffled sobs of the recently awakened. They had tried as best they could, but no words had seemed to get through to Hermione, who had turned as best she could in her tight blankets to face away from her two friends, her crying seeming unceasing. They could see, on the space of pillow she had moved away from, an enormous wet patch where Hermione's tears had soaked the cotton.
Madam Pomfrey had sent a note to Professor McGonagall to inform her of the situation, but Ginny doubted there was much that the headmistress could do that they hadn't tried already. Sadly, Ginny wondered whether Hermione would ever emerge from her self-imposed cocoon of tears; she also thought vaguely of Harry, who she had seen rapidly retreating from the scene. She knew she couldn't blame him; and yet it was hard not to. Voldemort may be gone, but his power to destroy lives seemed to be unstoppable, Ginny thought angrily.
A bizarre calm had settled over the hospital wing; Madam Pomfrey had quickly given up trying to sooth Hermione, pursing her lips and shutting herself into her office, where vague sounds of shuffling papers and clattering bottles were occasionally heard, and Hermione's crying had quieted to almost nothing in the fifteen minutes since Ginny and Neville had given up. They did not talk to each other- it seemed disrespectful to chat away while your friend was suffering enormous heartache a few metres away- and so they simply sat in silence, Neville awkwardly fiddling with his fingers; but Ginny just sat there, thinking. Why had everything become so difficult? Ginny knew she wasn't even directly involved with all of these painful complications- well, at least, she hadn't been before Ron had dragged her into it, she thought bitterly- but all the same, her head was a murky mess.
Her brother was an idiot. She knew Ron had feelings for Hermione, but there was no doubting that his reaction to her relationship with Harry was utterly ridiculous. Ginny admitted a small amount of jealousy on her own part- the lingering hope that Harry would eventually feel something back for her had never really left- but she'd been happy for the pair all the same, especially when she'd seen them together. So sweet, so happy, so right- they just seemed to fit together perfectly, adjusting to the sudden admittance of feelings as if they'd known of them all along.
It had been a terrible summer for Ginny, though- Ron had stomped moodily about pretty much non-stop before Harry had arrived for his usual spell at the Burrow, aware of Ron's dissatisfaction but quickly realizing that there was little to be done about it. To his credit, Ron had been perfectly civil to Harry, engaging in the usual games of Quidditch and chess and Exploding Snap with his usual fervour, though Ginny saw a little too much glee in Ron's eyes whenever the pile of cards had blown up in Harry's face.
But, as everything about this situation seemed to, it all came back to that secretive final week before Voldemort's downfall at Harry's hands. Ginny had not been present- and indeed, she could find no one else who had been either- at the event that finally seemed to break Ron, and all she knew was that, one morning, Ron had not been on speaking terms with either Harry or Hermione. He had staunchly ignored them, and even clicked his tongue in disgust at the sight of either of them- and, stranger still, thought Ginny, neither Harry or Hermione seemed to be anxious to reconcile the situation. Ron started spending all his time with Ginny, a fact which she was not particularly glad of since Ron's temper seemed to be unusually hot, even for him- he constantly blew up at her for the smallest things, and when she yelled back he cruelly spat some choice words at her and stomped off.
But even this was not what had worried Ginny most. No, what had worried Ginny most was how Harry and Hermione seemed to be acting towards each other. They hadn't stopped talking to each other, but their interactions looked distinctly forced to Ginny's trained eye- something had definitely happened between the two, not just with Ron. Ginny had caught them looking red-faced and irate behind a dark corner the day before they had left.
"Are you arguing?" Ginny said, frowning in concern.
"No," they chorused, rather too quickly for Ginny's liking. She raised an eyebrow.
"Don't lie to me," she implored, eyes flashing dangerously.
Hermione bit her lip and Harry looked anywhere but at Ginny as he said flatly, "Ginny, we weren't fighting. Look," he added, and planted a firm, chaste kiss on Hermione's lips. "See? We're fine."
Hermione nodded fervently. "Yes," she said, flush disappearing slowly. "Now I'm late for Arithmancy," she said, looking quickly at her watch. "I've got to run; I'll see you both later," she said, already running away down the corridor.
Ginny looked archly at Harry. "Well?" she prompted.
"Well what?" he snapped back, turning on his heel and striding off in the other direction.
Yes, thought Ginny, there had definitely been something going on. She wondered absently if she'd ever find out what it was- Harry couldn't remember, of course, and both Hermione and Ron were so reclusive at the moment that she knew she couldn't have got it out of any of them, at least right now. Ginny sighed. It was not a good time to be a Gryffindor.
She and Neville both jumped when the door behind them flew open, and they both swung around to see Professors McGonagall and Flitwick march in, followed closely by a concerned Tonks, hair a deep red. Ginny stood up in a rush, almost falling over before Neville put out a hand to steady her. She smiled quickly at him, not seeing his embarrassed flush as she turned round to face the adults, already gathered by Hermione's bed.
"Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall said softly, leaning down to where Hermione's head lay curled away. "Miss Granger, are you alright?"
Ginny stepped forward. "She knows, professor," she said, biting her lip anxiously, and Professor McGonagall closed her eyes sadly, immediately realizing the reason for Hermione's current state.
"Oh," was all the headmistress could say in response, standing there pensively while Tonks rushed around her to bend down and put her face by Hermione's, whispering words that no one else could hear. Hermione gave some muffled noises, but Ginny couldn't tell whether they were words or simply more sobs.
Professor Flitwick gestured Ginny and Neville over to the window, where Professor McGonagall quickly joined them, face inscrutable.
"And where is Mr. Potter? I was told he was here when she awoke," she said with a raised eyebrow, and Ginny bit her lip more fervently, leaving Neville to answer the question.
"He, um, left," stumbled Neville, and Professor McGonagall sighed.
"That, Mr. Longbottom, is obvious," she said condescendingly, making Neville flush. "Do you know where he has gone?" she asked deliberately.
"No," answered Neville with a surprisingly defiant stare. "We were here with Hermione."
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow again at Neville's strong tone, but said nothing about it, instead seeming to think before she spoke her next words. "Well," she said eventually, "could you and Miss Weasley please go and find him? I need to speak with him."
Neville nodded and grabbed Ginny's arm roughly, pulling her towards the door before she could think to protest. "Neville, there's no need to be so violent," she hissed in annoyance, glancing back at Hermione's bed, where Tonks was still whispering to the curled figure under the sheets. "Neville, let g-"
Her words stopped sharply when she turned back around to see the wide-eyed figure of Ron standing in the doorway, his feet frozen in a running position, his cheeks flushed and his breath heavy.
Ginny's expression hardened. "You've heard, have you?" she said archly, almost biting her tongue in her anger. Neville's hold on her was still tight, and she knew he was preparing to pull her away from the impended scene of ugliness.
Ginny, however, was having none of it. "You're not seeing her," she warned forcefully, trying to throw off Neville's hand. Ron, still breathless, blinked at her.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked eventually, cheeks slowing loosing their colour.
Ginny crossed her arms, eyes fiery. "Hermione," she said patronisingly, "is upset. The last thing she needs to see is you."
Ron chewed angrily on his bottom lip, staring back at his sister. "You going to try and stop me, are you?" he said with a short laugh.
Ginny plucked her wand from her pocket and poked it menacingly at his chest. "You bloody bet I am," she snarled, shrugging off Neville's attempts to calm her down.
Ron looked momentarily startled, but quickly pulled out his own wand and waved it in the air. "I won last time, Gin," he said with a smirk, making Ginny's eyes flash.
"Ron, no!" said Neville in a low voice, seeing the adults look over from the corner of his eye. Suddenly, as if she'd flown there, Professor McGonagall was at his side, grabbing the siblings' wands from their grasps before they'd even realized she was there.
She looked disparagingly at both of them. "I heard about your…" she paused, searching for the appropriate word, "ah, disagreement in the Great Hall earlier," she informed them, and they both looked rather abashed, though Ginny's eyes still flashed dangerously. "Please keep your personal business out of other student's noses," she instructed them, "and please keep your conflicts verbal," she said, smartly waving their wands before their faces.
"Professor," interrupted Ron, still rather breathless, "I need to see Hermione!"
Professor McGonagall did not smile. "Mr. Weasley," she said calmly, "Miss Granger is not in a fit state to receive any visitors at the moment, so I will kindly ask you to go back to Gryffindor Tower and wait until Miss Granger herself requests to see you," she finished smoothly, and, ignoring Ron's rather loud protests, ushered all three of them out of the hospital wing, handed back their wands, and closed the door behind them.
Ginny looked at Ron with a smirk of satisfaction. He looked incensed, but, to Ginny's surprise, tucked his wand away and ran out of sight down the corridor.
She felt Neville's hand on her back, rubbing it comfortingly. "Come on," he whispered, "let's go and find Harry." She paused, nodded slowly, and let Neville lead her back to the common room, silence surrounding them as they walked.
*~*~*
Hermione felt like her heart had broken in two.
She tried, desperately, to stop crying, to stop herself from looking so pathetic, but, each time she told herself forcefully to stop, the tears seemed to multiply. The pillow beneath her head was horribly, uncomfortably damp, sticking to her cheek, but she could no more bear to turn back to where she knew Neville and Ginny were sitting than she could continue lying there. She heard silence for what seemed like an age, then the sudden proliferation of voices behind her; and then, just as suddenly, a whisper so close her blood froze.
"Hermione?"
It wasn't an unkind, demanding voice, but a soft, gentle one, though she did not immediately recognize it. She sniffed, blinked her eyes open and free of tears, and slowly the blurry image her eyes saw came into focus.
Smiling warmly and sympathetically before her was Tonks, a shock of red hair shining atop her flushed head- she looked like she'd been running. Hermione tried her best to smile in recognition, but her mouth seemed set in its downward curl and all she could manage was a choked murmur.
Tonks, noticing Hermione's constricted hands, pulled at the blankets carefully to loosen them, and Hermione whispered a broken thanks as she wiped her eyes, vaguely thinking that she probably looked like hell. Tonks handed her a tissue and brushed a strand of Hermione's hair from her eyes, waiting for Hermione to clear her face before she continued. Hermione could hear the faint voices of Professor McGonagall and Neville somewhere behind Tonks, but the Metamorphmagus was blocking everything else from Hermione's vision.
"Hermione," Tonks said quietly once Hermione's hand had fallen back from her face, "I know you're ups- devastated," she corrected herself quickly, "and I understand, but this isn't good for you," she advised kindly, hands resting in front of Hermione's cheeks, which were perilously close to the edge of the mattress.
Hermione coughed slightly. "But," she croaked, voice breaking through a combination of distress and lack of use, "what am I supposed to do?"
Tonks let out a small sigh, smile fading slightly. "I know it's difficult," she said honestly. "We've tried, we really have, Ginny especially-"
"How long have I been in here?" Hermione said suddenly, cutting off Tonks' words. Tonks seemed to consider this before responding.
"A few days under two weeks," she estimated, and Hermione's eyes, still misty from her tears, widened.
"Two weeks," she echoed in surprise. "But what… Harry…" she stumbled.
Tonks laid a hand gently on hers. "It hasn't been easy for him either," she said quietly, eyes flicking quickly to her left as Hermione heard footsteps going by the end of her bed. "But now that you're awake…" she said, the hope burning in her eyes, "maybe things will change."
Something within Hermione was deeply sceptical of this statement, but she did her best to ignore its taunting whispers of doom and smiled as well as she could. It clearly worked; Tonks' smile widened again and she patted Hermione's hand comfortingly, gently guiding Hermione into a sitting position, kindly arranging the pillows behind Hermione so she did not hit the cold iron of the bars.
Movement jarred in the corner of Hermione's eyes, as she looked over the door to see Professor McGonagall almost pushing Ron, Neville and Ginny out of the door, thrusting their wands back at them before closing the door behind their timid figures and turning back to the room with a deep sigh. She seemed to collect herself quickly, though, and strode back to Hermione purposefully.
Hermione took the few moments between to gather herself: at the end of the bed stood Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey, both looking at her sympathetically. She looked meekly back, playing absently with the sheets, which now came up to her midriff.
"Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall, now standing to Hermione's right, Tonks moving to her side, "I understand that you have been informed of the situation."
Hermione frowned. "Please, Professor, can't you call me Hermione?"
Professor McGonagall looked piercingly back at her, but nodded curtly. "Of course, Hermione, I'm sorry," she said, tone softening. "But you are aware that-"
"That Harry's forgotten me?" said Hermione toughly. "Yes, I'm quite aware," she said, fighting tears back, with success that surprised her.
The headmistress looked taken aback by Hermione's directness, but continued as if her student's words had been said as softly as her own. "Hermione, we've been doing the best we can to recover Harry's memories… of course, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a very powerful wizard, and his charm is not going to be the easiest to break through," she said, slightly bitterly. "But prospects are considerably brighter now that you are awake," she continued, smiling briefly. "Madam Pomfrey tells me that you need to rest for a while longer… but I see no reason why you cannot see Harry tomorrow," she said, looking to Madam Pomfrey, who nodded. "Ginevra tells me that, though they have not been able to recover any memories, there have been moments… although they did attempt an outlandishly dangerous idea," she added darkly, frowning, "which I must speak with Miss Lovegood about." She looked down at Hermione over her thin spectacles, lips tight, eyes bright. "I am sorry that this has happened to you, Hermione. You and Harry… well, I wish you the best of luck," she said, clearing her throat and straightening up, collecting her robes purposefully. "I will, naturally, be charting the situation closely."
Hermione smiled weakly in thanks, and Professor McGonagall, giving her one last piercing glance, strode out of the room, Professor Flitwick at her heels and Madam Pomfrey whispering rapidly at her side. Hermione looked back at Tonks, who gave a quick grin and settled herself on the end of Hermione's bed. Hermione shifted awkwardly against her pillows, realizing suddenly that she no longer felt the need to cry.
"So," said Tonks brightly, "what's it like being in a coma?"
Hermione giggled despite herself, unable to resist Tonks' unique sense of humour. "Quite the experience," she answered dryly, a thin smile playing on her lips. Tonks winked, and, for a moment, Hermione forgot her overwhelming problems and laughed.