Chapter Three
Harry sat staring at her pale face - much too pale - feeling restless and desperate and itching for revenge.
The only thing keeping him from throwing caution to the wind and cursing Crabbe and Goyle within an inch of their lives was the necessity of being there when Hermione awoke. According to Madame Pomfrey, the extent of the damage could only be seen once she woke…if she woke. Brain injuries were tricky like that, evidently.
Harry didn't know what he'd do with himself if she didn't come around soon.
He'd had to carry her through Hogsmeade, up the road to Hogwarts, never moving fast enough. He was terrified at the amount of blood she'd been losing. If she'd died…oh, God, if she'd died…
Harry had nearly killed his fellow Gryffindors for hindering his progress. He'd stopped long enough to tell them there was no time to explain and that they had to find her wand before he'd set off at a run, not stopping to speak or think or breathe until Hermione was in a bed in the Hospital Wing with Madame Pomfrey muttering charms over her.
McGonagall had burst in not long after, demanding to know what had transpired. Harry had told her what he could, hoping her punishment for them would be severe enough that they wouldn't need hexing when the Head of Gryffindor was done with them.
And though he'd never been so scared before in his life when he'd found her lying on the ground with blood pooling around her head, the waiting was worse. Waiting and watching and dreading and hoping all at once…
If only he'd been there. If only he'd moved more quickly, gotten to her sooner…. If only the awkwardness he'd caused between them hadn't urged her to go to Hogsmeade with Seamus…. If only he'd acted on his first instinct and told Seamus he'd hex him into oblivion if he dared to touch Hermione….
Harry sighed to himself. If only he'd been willing to accept that he was jealous and dealt with it like a normal person, she might have been safe with him in the Three Broomsticks.
Of course, admitting he'd been jealous to her was out of the question. Hermione had it hard enough just being who she was - Muggle-born, smartest in the class, his best friend. That was enough to make her plenty of enemies, as today had proven. He didn't need to give them all another reason to harm her - especially when she'd already been hurt because of him, too many times.
But he wasn't going to leave her unprotected ever again. If he had to drive her absolutely insane with his presence, he'd be sure he was there to keep anything from happening to her. That was the only way he could be sure…
Harry spent the rest of the day, and the following night, in the Hospital Wing. Visitors came and went - Ron, very distraught; a very nervous and apologetic Seamus; Lavender and Parvati, looking guilty and uncomfortable; Luna, who acted the same as she always did.
Harry had a feeling something odd was going on, as Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati had never cared much about what happened to Hermione before. What had happened to day…it seemed as though they knew something about it that they weren't letting on.
When visiting hours ended, Madame Pomfrey tried to shoo him out, but with sheer stubbornness and a little help from McGonagall, Harry was allowed to stay.
The hours ticked by. Hermione never moved so much as an eyelash. Against his will, Harry felt himself dozing off in the flickering torchlight of the dark room…
~
It was still quite dark, wherever she was. Why was it so dark? Harry had found her…it should have been bright again…she should be all right…
But wait…there was light. Jumping light, like that from a fire.
Hermione's vision began to clear and she realized she was staring up at a ceiling. Rolling her head to the left, she found herself looking down a long row of empty beds, with torches along the wall here and there to keep the room from becoming completely dark. So she was in the Hospital Wing, then.
Lolling her head back to the left, she expected to find much the same thing. Instead, she found Harry.
He was slumped down in what had to be the most uncomfortable wooden chair ever. His head had dropped against the back of it in slumber. There was a trickle of drool running from the corner of his mouth and he was snoring faintly.
It was, quite possibly, the cutest thing she'd ever seen.
And he was here. She'd expected…well, she hadn't had time to expect much at all, but with their distance of late, she would have expected to wake up alone, perhaps not seeing him until she was healed and free to go.
But he'd stayed with her, and she couldn't help smiling. She hadn't ruined things…she hadn't ruined them at all.
Hermione lay watching him for awhile. She knew she probably shouldn't. It was studying him like this that had gotten her in trouble in the first place. But there was something riveting about watching him in sleep…something terribly intimate about seeing something of him that hopefully few other women would get to see…
Harry suddenly gave a great jerk in his sleep and opened his eyes - did he always wake like that? He looked around as if trying to figure out where he was, and then his eyes fell on her. He jumped.
"Hermione!"
She smiled. "Hi."
"How are you feeling?"
Hermione attempted a shrug. "Physically, much better. Emotionally, I'm feeling quite embarrassed."
"Why?"
"Harry…I went up to the Shrieking Shack, of all places, alone, after losing my wand. I could have run away before they even reacted, but instead I tripped and hurt my ankle. When they grabbed me, I fought them off, and instead of getting away, I fell over and hit my head on a rock. I'm not sure Crabbe and Goyle would have even managed to figure out a way to hurt me if I hadn't done it so well myself."
"You shouldn't have ever needed to get away in the first place," Harry said with a scowl.
"No, but that's the way the world is. No one can ever be entirely safe."
She watched as he considered his hands for a moment. "That's not good enough."
Hermione almost rolled her eyes. "Harry, don't start that again."
Harry looked up and asked bemusedly, "Start what?"
"Blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong. I got myself into a stupid situation and couldn't get myself back out. That's not your fault. And you found me. Who knows what might have happened if you hadn't?"
It was easy to see that her words made no impact upon him whatsoever, but he wasn't arguing, at least.
"So…has Madame Pomfrey said when I'll be released?"
Harry paled slightly. "Er…no. She wasn't sure what state you'd be in when you woke up."
"Oh." She could see in his expression how worried he'd been and was touched by it, though she didn't dare comment on it. Those types of personal comments led the way to awkwardness and embarrassment - or at least, they did with Harry these days.
"I should go wake Madame Pomfrey," Harry said, jumping from his chair with rather alarming speed. "She'll have my head on a platter if she finds out you were awake and I didn't tell her."
Hermione nodded and listened to his footsteps fade. Just a minute or two later, she heard them returning, echoed by Madame Pomfrey's.
"Mr. Potter, perhaps now you'll consent to going back to Gryffindor Tower?" she said snappishly as she began bustling about with spells and potions.
"I was hoping that perhaps I could stay until you were done…until you knew how she was," Harry said in a timid manner that Hermione felt sure had to be deliberate. Harry hadn't said much of anything genuinely timidly since he was eleven. Nevertheless, she appreciated the sentiment that went along with his subtle manipulation of the Healer.
"Very well," she said, a little less harshly. "But after that, you really must get to your own bed."
Harry didn't argue as she went about her work.
"Miss Granger. You're well aware of who you are and where you are?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me what happened to you yesterday?"
"I was at Hogsmeade. I went up to the Shrieking Shack alone, ran into Crabbe and Goyle, and tripped. Then they picked me up and I beat them off, fell, and hit my head." Hermione tried not to blush at the memory…how stupid she'd been.
"Good…your memory seems to be unharmed."
Madame Pomfrey continued muttering charms, and Hermione remained silent. She cast a surreptitious glance at Harry. He was watching everything with more focus than he'd ever shown in class, which wasn't exactly saying a lot, but it was saying something.
"Well, I don't see any signs of long-lasting damage," she finally said, stepping back with a final flick of her wand. "But I do want to keep you a bit longer."
"How much longer?" Hermione questioned. "I will be able to go back to class on Monday, won't I?"
"I'll keep you one more day," said Madame Pomfrey, rolling her eyes. "So, yes, you'll be able to return to class on Monday. Honestly…I haven't seen a student so intent on her studies since Lily Evans - Potter, that is."
Madame Pomfrey didn't notice the effect her statement had caused, but Hermione did - and Harry as well, by the way he was blushing. So he'd noticed the parallel right away, too, had he?
Hermione considered him carefully. Something had changed with Harry…something about the way he was acting with her. It was still awkward and a bit distant, but not in the same way… Something had changed in that head of his, and she wanted to know what it was.
"Well, Mr. Potter, are you satisfied now? Go on, get out - it's much too late for you to be in here."
Hermione watched him go with a newfound curiosity. She would most definitely get to the bottom of this.
~
"I've got a plan!"
"What is it, Draco?" Pansy asked, noting Draco's usual giddiness at having plotted something.
"I know how we can make Granger's life miserable for a day!"
"How's that?" Tormenting Granger…now that was putting his plotting skills, however mediocre, to good use.
"We glue her to Potter!"
"…What?"
"In Potions tomorrow! We glue their hands together. It'll take old Pomfrey at least a day to make a removal potion, and you know Snape won't help her. They'll be stuck like that for who knows how long."
"It sounds sort of lame, Draco."
"You think that now - but what about when Potter has to take a piss?"
Pansy considered that thought for a moment. "Hey. That is a good plan."
~
On Monday, things seemed to be more or less back to normal. Harry and Hermione went to potions after breakfast like perfectly platonic friends do and settled down at their usual table. They began Snape's excruciatingly tedious assignment (in Harry's view). Class went on as normal, with minimal taunting from Snape and the Slytherins. All seemed to be quite well.
Until, of course, Draco Malfoy ran over, poured something on Harry's hand, and shoved Hermione's hand into it.
"What did you just do?" Harry yelled, jumping out of his seat, only to find he'd dragged Hermione with him. He looked down to find her trying to pry her hand from his, but failing.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. He did not just do what I think he just did.
"What's the matter, Potter?" Snape asked almost gleefully, as if he knew he'd have an excuse to punish him.
"Malfoy glued our hands together."
Snape made a not-so-subtle noise of amusement. "That's a very novice mistake to make, Potter, and I can't believe you'd blame it on Mr. Malfoy. Is it that hard for you to keep a girl that you have to resort to gluing her to you?"
It was only Hermione's desperate look that kept Harry from retorting angrily. As it was, he stood fuming as Snape smirked away.
"Well, go to the Hospital Wing. That'll be twenty points from Gryffindor, and you'll both fail the assignment due to incompletion."
~
"What have you done to yourselves this time?" Madame Pomfrey asked when they arrived. Hermione was still in too much shock over failing an assignment to reply, so Harry explained.
"Glue…honestly," she tutted, "Not even first years are that juvenile…"
She ran off to her office for a book, while Harry and Hermione waited, looking quite the gossip-worthy picture for anyone who might wander in.
"Well, it looks as though the reversal potion for that particular caliber of glue takes twenty-four hours to brew. I'm afraid you'll be stuck like that for awhile. You can go about the rest of your day like that, but you'll have to talk to Professor McGonagall about sleeping arrangements."
Harry felt a lot of lively things squirming around in his stomach. Twenty-four hours, glued to Hermione?
Oh, this would not be good.
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