See Chapter 1 for Disclaimer.
Harry looked at Hermione, laying motionless on the bed. Defenseless. Vulnerable. He tried to walk toward her, but his
knees gave way. He once again was overtaken by tears. Dumbledore patted Harry on the back, and helped him up. He coaxed Harry into an easy chair that Dumbledore had just transfigured next to Hermione's bed. Dumbledore glanced over at Hermione, and then at Harry. Two of the best students Hogwarts had ever seen.
"Harry, are you going to be alright? I think that it would be best for me to leave you alone with Hermione, so you can talk to her. I don't know whether she can hear clearly, and it is almost definite that she cannot comprehend at this point, but the sound of your voice will still help her. It will also help you. Would you like for me to leave?" the old Headmaster said, gently.
Harry slowly looked up. His face was tear-stained, and the words did not come easily.
"Yes. Please. I want to talk to her..."
Dumbledore patted him on the back again, and then placed a hand gently on Hermione's forehead. With a tired expression, but still that same old glint in his eye, he turned and walked toward the door. He turned the knob and left, closing the door softly behind him.
Harry sat in silence for several minutes. He slowly lifted his eyes, red from crying, to look at Hermione's motionless form. Her face, though pale, looked radiant with life. Her light brown curls spilled unkempt onto the white pillow. Her eyes were closed, and she lay in a simple nightgown with the sheets up slightly past her waist. Harry observed her in silence. He looked at her face. She looked innocent, angelic even. It lacked the seriousness that was so very Hermione. Hermione had always been intense. Intense in concentration, like when she did her homework. Intense in anger, like when she yelled at Ron. Intense in fear, like her eyes when she hid from the troll. She was even intense in happiness. Harry's mind wandered back to second year. Seeing her like this. Frozen in time. She was like this when she was Petrified. It was after that that he saw her intense happiness. When she had been released from the hospital wing, and she ran into the Great Hall and leaped into Harry's arms. His thoughts took him back to the present, staring at her form, lifeless yet full of life. Would she ever be able to do homework again? To yell at Ron? To hide? Or to leap into Harry's arms? He liked to have her in his arms. It was there that he could protect her. There they both felt safe. Just like a brother and sister should, he consciously thought. But his subconscious mind took over. He knew that his devotion toward her was not brother-sister. He didn't know why it was, but he knew it was. Overcome with emotion, he moved his chair closer to the bed, and spoke, shakily at first, but getting stronger.
"Hermione. I... I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. This is all my fault. If it wasn't for me, you would be fine. You wouldn't be lying here, hit with Unforgivables. You wouldn't be in the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey wouldn't be predicting your death. It's all my fault, everything is. I caused you so much pain. You shouldn't have been exposed to everything. You shouldn't have seen it all. You shouldn't have tried to take away my pain. I would give anything, Hermione, to be in your place right now. You shouldn't have to suffer my pain. Those curses were meant for me. I would have been more than yours, until you wake up. I am just so sorry. I can't say it enough. It's all my fault, and I wish th willing to take the hit, if only it would have saved you from this. You jumped in front of the horrible light. You took it for me. You saved the wizarding world, but at a huge expense. And it's all my fault. If we hadn't been so close, if we did not share the bonds of friendship that we share, you would have been so much better off. It's all my fault. All of this. I hate seeing you like this. I want to kill the person who did this to you, and even though in reality I did, it feels like the person who I need to kill is myself, because I was the one who caused it. No, Hermione, I'm not threatening suicide, because you aren't dead. You're alive. You are the hope that makes me want to live. I have nothing left but you. You are my everything. And since I caused this to happen to you, I'm going to devote my life to living yours. I wish I had a Time-Turner, so I could go back and take the curses instead of you. Everything is my fault, 'Mione. I'm sorry. I'm.... sorry." Harry began to sob once again. He body looked so immobile. He needed a sign that she was still alive. He moved the chair again, this time so it touched the bed. He leaned over and placed his head on her chest. He felt her breathing, shallow, but rhythmic. He heard her heartbeat. It was tentative, but obviously alive. He lay there for many minutes, her heartbeat quieting his sobs, until he once again had the courage to speak.
"Mione, I owe you everything. I owe you my sanity, from these last seven years, when you were always there for me. I owe you my personality, because you were like my family. I owe you my life. What you did yesterday. I owe you my life, and the life of so many others who would have died if Voldemort had lived. After all of the pain I caused you, you save me. You were my sister, my guardian, my mother, my best friend. You could always understand me deeper than Ron could." He couldn't help but smile slightly. "More deeply. Not deeper. I know. If I'm going to talk to you while you can't correct my grammar, I should do it myself." He laid his head back down on her chest and listened again to her heart. "I owe you my heart. I didn't exactly grow up in a loving home. You taught me how to feel. All of those times, Mione. You were always my friend, always there for me. Always." He murmured into her chest. He wasn't sure where this was all coming from, it was just pouring from his heart. "No matter what, Mione, I will always be here for you. You broke through my shell. You know the real me. And I love you for it. I love you, Hermione, more than you'll ever know." He wept softly into her slowly rising and falling chest. Silence fell on Harry, both heavy and forgiving. He lay there for a long time, being comforted as a baby would, listening to her heart, still beating.
"Harry."