Chapter 14 "Last Bit"
Dumbledore was in his office with a very pale Boy Hero, who, far from looking like the savior of the known wizarding world, was barely able to keep his head up. He was tired of life and loss and just wanted to get back to his vigil over an unconscious Hermione in the infirmary.
Dumbledore, however, was oblivious to Harry's weariness and merrily droned on about how Hermione's bond to the Deatheater Dolohov had actually been her saving grace. Apparently Voldemort's inner circle had some sort of resistance to his spells and…well, as is so often the case at Hogwarts, what had so nearly killed her had apparently saved her life.
In short, it proved a profound and important speech, and Dumbledore was nearly finished with the half-hour explanation of why he couldn't have revealed all this before the battle when a series of cries and shouts from stairwell interrupted him.
"Stop, don't, I…wait, he's with Dumbledore…I told you to stop young lady…"
Harry rose from his chair, wand at the ready, as the study door flew open and a frantic Madame Pomfrey and a struggling Hermione burst in.
"I'm so sorry Headmaster," said Pomfrey, taking hold of one of the blankets Hermione was wrapped in, "but she wouldn't…I tried to…"
Hermione freed herself from Pomfrey's grip before the nurse could finish her halting explanation. She shot Pomfrey an impatient look which quickly vanished as she caught sight of the shaken Boy hero before her.
"Harry?" Hermione asked with wide, watery eyes.
"Hermione?" Harry slowly lowered his wand and gripped the chair behind him. A heavy silence descended on the room as the two student stared at each other.
It took Fawke's sudden combustion to snap Harry out of his stupor. In two strides he'd snatched Hermione up in his arms and spun her around in a desperate hug. They both sank to the floor, not able to stand, and not really caring to, clinging to and clutching at each other and all the while ignoring the teachers in their midst.
"Harry," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he gathered her against him. "Harry, are you…" she didn't get a chance to finish before Harry had cut her off with a frantic kiss.
"Dear gods, oh sweets," he murmured, running his lips over her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, any skin he could possibly find, afraid to touch her but unable to help himself. "Are you...? Does it hurt?"
"No," she answered, shaking her head against the crook of his neck, now near tears as she clung to him. It didn't hurt. Not really, now that he was holding her.
"Oh love, if you ever do that again I'll…" he swallowed back a tremor in his voice. "I don't know what I'll do, but gods…." He resumed his caresses and whispers, unaware of the silent departure of Dumbledore and a protesting Pomfrey.
"If you do that again…" Harry started again. Gods he couldn't even say it. Seeing her fall like that, and him helpless to do anything about it. He'd rather face a thousand Voldemorts than go through that again.
Hermione, meanwhile, wanted to say something healing and helpful. Something that would reassure him and resolve their already mucked up trust issues. However, in her eternal Gryffindor stupidity, she settled for the truth.
"Better me than you," she whispered against his collar.
"Better…what?" Harry shook his head. Did she just say…
"Hermione, look at me," he said sternly. He tried to pull away, but she held fast to him, refusing to meet his eyes, scared of what she might see there. "Hermione, love. Please look at me." He sighed defeatedly as she buried herself against his shoulder. Stubborn girl…"Hermione, if you hadn't have woken up…I don't know what I would done."
He ran his hands through her hair and held her impossibly closer. "You mean more to me than anything. Anything. Should've told you months ago…" and when I think I almost lost you…
He closed his eyes, willing the grim thoughts away. She was here now and that's all that mattered. Focus Potter…
"And I'm just grateful," he continued, "so bloody grateful I can tell you that."
She shook her head against his shoulder, not willing to believe it.
"Look at me," he said. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that were threatening to escape.
"Hermione," he insisted, "look at me." He nuzzled the side of her cheek...lovely perfect stubborn girl… and planted feathery kisses along her jaw. "Look at me, darling, love, please," he repeated.
She gripped his shoulders as he whispered assurances in her ear; sweet words that drifted through her as he began raining soft kisses across her face. Hermione, lost to the delicious sensations he was creating, pressed her lips to his neck, planting kisses on his soft skin.
He ran his hands along her healing sides, whispering and begging over and over again. "Look at me love sweets look please Hermes please."
She pulled back a bit and gazed into his brilliant green eyes. For the first time in months, she recognized the perfectly-open, purely Harry expression. She swallowed back a sob and pulled him into a hard, heartbreaking kiss, hoping to show him everything she couldn't say.
"I'm not sorry Harry," she said as she broke away with a gasp. "Don't ask me to be."
"Won't." He muttered as he nestled her honey locks. "Just don't leave me. Don't go anywhere where I can't find you. Where I can't get to you."
She shook her head against his shoulder. "Wherever I am, you'll have me." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "No matter what Harry, you'll have me. You always did."
And there, under the unfinished light of the evening, with injuries both fresh and fading, they began the long and arduous task of healing each other.
The End