A/N - This is the first fanfic I've ever written, bit it seems to have lit a fire under my ass. I just can't stop writing… and I can't stop thinking about it when I'm not writing it! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!
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Hermione apparated herself and Harry straight into her bedroom. She would have apparated Harry straight into the bed if she could have managed it. As it was, she had to do it the hard way.
Harry wasn't responding at all, so she half pushed, half dropped him onto the bed. A quick wave of her wand mended and cleaned the clothes he was wearing. After a quick internal debate she decided to leave his clothes on; he was shivering.
"Harry, you great clod... help me out a little here," she muttered, trying to manuever him under the blankets. But he didn't even so much as stir. Hermione grumbled and mumbled imprecations under her breath that were at great odds with her gentleness of her hands and care.
Finally, she managed to get him tucked away. Only then did he open his eyes and fix her with a painful green gaze before turning his head away.
"Harry, I'll be right back. I promise. Don't try and move!"
He gave no indication of having heard her. Trusting he was too weak to make an escape, Hermione dashed out into the kitchen and starting grabbing things from the cupboards and simply materializing anything else she needed out of the stock at St. Mungo's. Every healer had special 24/7 access to those supplies, in case of emergencies.
If this doesn't count as an emergency, then I don't know what does! Hermione thought a bit hysterically. Quite soon, she had a small cauldron full of a sky blue potion bubbling away and stood staring at it intently. At the first indication it was done, she scooped out a glass full.
"Harry, this is going to make you feel bett-" Hermione called as she returned. Harry was half out of the bed and struggling helplessly to stand.
"Harry, get back in there!" Hermione said angrily.
"I, um..." he seemed embarassed. "I have to use the bathroom."
"Oh. Sorry." Hermione flushed. "Let me help you there."
That ordeal taken care of, Hermione tucked him back into the bed and conjured another blanket to cover his icy body. She didn't understand what was happening at all... after everything else he was embarassed about needing help to get to the bathroom?
"Drink this," she orderd, liftingthe potion to his lips.
"What is it?" Harry asked suspiciously before sealing his lips tightly.
"It's a sleeping potion, you big git!" Hermione exploded. "You'd know that if you had ever paid any attention to Snape. Now, drink!"
Harry relented, most likely aided by Hermione pracically pouring the potion down his throat. Almost instantly he was claimed by the dream world. And no sooner than he was obviously asleep Hermione burst into tears again.
"Harry, I'm sorry," she wailed at his unconscious form, seated on the bed at his side. "I didn't mean to be so mean! I'm so scared about you and, and I didn't know what to do!"
Harry just snored softly. Sniffling, Hermione stroked his hair gently and noticed for the first time that it was thick and healthy and a brilliant, pure white. It didn't make him look old at all, just... distinguished. She enfolded one of his hands in both her tiny ones and started crying again upon feeling how wasted away it was.
Stop it! she thought furiously. I'm a healer, damnit! I need to pull myself together. I've been trained for situations like these. What am I supposed to do now? Think!
What Hermione wanted to do was run a full magical scan on him, but she knew she shouldn't. Such a scan, while extremely informative, was also extremely intrusive by nature. It had to stimulate the body to find out how it reacted and, by extension, caused a great deal of stress to the body. Right now, she wasn't sure Harry's body could take that kind of stress.
"I'll- I'll just stay right here with you, Harry," Hermione whispered, still stroking the back of his hand. "In the morning you'll feel better and I can run the scan then."
Despite her best intentions, Hermione was completely exhausted and soon drooped forward. Daylight came to find her bushy head resting on Harry's stomach.
* * *
Harry had enjoyed a deep, dreamless sleep, thanks to Hermione's superb potion making ability. Hermione's so good at everything, he thought proudly before reality came crashing back in and he remembered the past five years.
'Uhhhhh," Harry groaned. He felt terribly weak and tried to move, but it was as if a weight was holding him down. It took him a moment to realize that a weight was pinning him down. A weight called Hermione, who had collapsed in exhaustion with head on his stomach, face turned up towards his. Her shoulders pinned down his hip and her arms were flung across his body.
Hermione... why couldn't you leave me alone? Why do you have to be so good? Far to good to be anywhere near me...
Hermione stirred, almost as if she could hear his thoughts, but she didn't wake. Tentatively, Harry reached out and touched her bushy hair. Was there any way he could move her without waking her up?
Too late, though. Hermione's eyes sprang open, looking straight into his. He immediately jerked his hand back, not sure if she had noticed. For a moment she smiled hesitantly up at him, then suddenly jumped up in shock.
"Oh!" she stammered. "I'm sorry, Harry! I don't know what happened... I was giving you that potion and then all of a sudden I woke up just a moment ago!"
"Don't worry about it," Harry replied flatly.
"Are-are you feeling any better?"
"Yeah, loads," Harry lied. "Thanks, Hermione. I'll just go now."
"No, you won't," Hermione scolded severely. "I have to run a scan on you."
"A scan?"
Hermione sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm a healer now."
"Oh... oh, yeah. Still, you needn't bother. I'm fine, I tell you."
"Be still," Hermione commanded as Harry tried to throw the covers off. He ignored her.
"I said, be still!" Hermione pinned him back down. "I need to concentrate."
"Ok, fine," muttered Harry. "Just get it over with."
But Hermione wasn't listening. A fierce frown of concentration marred her face and she reached a hand out towards his midsection. A faint glow surrounded the hand and it slowly extended until it touched Harry. He gasped; hot and cold ripples were rushing up and down his body. It was like being stuffed in a hot tub, then dragged out and thrown into a cold lake. Over and over. His limbs twitched uncontrollably.
"Oh... oh, my..." Hermione sat down heavily, cutting off the spell. "Harry, what have you done? You haven't taken care of your body at all, have you?"
"What's there to take care of?" he asked indifferently, then marred it by coughing violently. "It's a body. It's still there, isn't it."
"Oh, Harry. I can't fix this here. I'm going to have to take you into St. Mungo's."
"Why?"
"Why?" Hermione was flabbergasted. "Why? Harry, if I don't you might die!"
"So?"
"What do you mean, so?" demanded Hermione, scared.
"So what? Who cares if I die? I've been ready for it for ages," Harry answered.
"Who- who cares?!" shrieked Hermione. "I CARE!"
If she had expected some sort of sign out of Harry, Hermione was sorely mistaken. He merely stared stonily at her.
"You! I can't take this anymore!" sobbed Hermione. "You're not Harry! He would never say things like this!"
"You're right," replied Harry evenly. "Harry's dead. I'm all that's left now, and I'm a bad person. So just let me go my way."
"You're not going anywhere. You stay right there until I'm done with you!" shouted Hermione, raising her wand.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Still sobbing, Hermione rushed out and Harry was left alone in the full body bind. A moment later, he heard the pop of someone disapparating.
* * *
Whatever Ron's plans had been when he got up that morning, they definitely hadn't included a disheveled, hysterical Hermione popping up on his front doorstep.
A choked, "Ron, please let me in!" was the first he knew of her presence.
"What-?" he said aloud to Charlotte as he hurried towards the door and yanked it open. Hermione spilled in and he caught her in his arms.
"Hermione!" Ron said, shocked at her appearance. "What's going on, Hermione?"
She mumbled incoherently and clutched the front of his robes, tears spilling down her face.
"Charlotte, help me!"
A short, pleasant faced young woman rushed over and disengaged Hermione from Ron. Murmuring soothing nonsense, she and Ron led Hermione over to a chair and pressed her down in it. Charlotte waved her wand a steaming cup of tea flew over, which she forced into Hermione's hand.
Ron kneeled down on Hermione's other side and peered worryingly at her.
"Hermione, shh, it's ok. Tell me what happened."
Hermione took several great sniffs and attempted to get herself under control.
"I'm sorry, Ron!" she hiccuped, burying her face in the teacup.
"Don't be stupid. I'm your friend. You can always come to me when something's wrong."
"Thanks," she smiled wanly. " Thank you, too, Charlotte."
"Ron's friends are my friends," the woman replied firmly, but smiled kindly. She was slightly plump with an open, friendly face and, ironically, shoulder length bright red hair. A plethora of freckles dotted her face and she sported green eyes startingly similar to Harry's.
"Now, talk to us, Hermione," Ron said.
"I-" Hermione opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. She had promised. And Hermione always kept her word.
"Oh, it's so awful, Ron!" she finally said, and then the words poured out of her in a rush. "I'm trying so hard, but it just isn't doing anything! It hurts so much... I finally have a chance to make a difference, and I'm completely wasting it! Nothing I do helps and I don't know what to do now. And-"
"Is it a bad day at St. Mungo's?" Ron asked quietly. "Were you trying to save someone hurt really bad?"
Hermione laughed; a high-pitched feverish laugh. Ron had just given her the perfect opening to lie without lying.
"Oh, yes," she said bitterly. "And I don't know if I can..."
"'Course you can," Ron said briskly. "You're Hermione Granger. You can do anything, even if you are an unsufferable know-it-all sometimes."
A giggle burst out of Hermione at that pronouncement. It used to infuriate her when Ron called her that, but now she knew it was a genuinely affectionate term.
"Thanks, Ron," Hermione replied, taking a deep breath. "You're not so bad, even if you are a thoughtless git sometimes."
"Ha! Ungrateful little shrew!" But they were smiling so hard it hurt.
"So, we'll take you back home. They'll understand at St. Mungo's."
"Oh, no. I have to go to St. Mungo's," Hermione said hurriedly. "I'm ok, don't worry about me. And I can get there by myself."
"Are you sure?" Ron asked doubtfully.
"Yes, I'm sure, Healer Ron." Hermione hugged him tightly, then Charlotte.
"Thanks so much!"
* * *
Perhaps I ought to act a little more friendly towards Hermione, thought Harry. At least until I can escape from her.
He had a lot of time to think about that, being stuck in a full Body Bind. Plenty of time to formulate a plan. It was almost a funny situation. Harry couldn't have ever imagined a situation where Hermione would hex him.
A small pop announced the arrival of someone, very likely Hermione. Sure enough, she swept into the room a second later, a chilly look in her eyes. She removed the Bind, but didn't look any less menacing for it.
"Hermione," croaked Harry immediately, "I reckon you're probably right. I should go to St. Mungo's."
"Is that so?" aksed Hermione dangerously. There were definitely chimes of pure ice there. Best not to push it.
"Yeah..."
"Well, I'm certainly glad you agree, seeing as my expert opinion as a Healer doesn't count for anything."
Oh yes. Very brittle.
Harry wasn't quite sure what to say, so he just remained quiet and allowed Hermione to sit him up and force a large amount of steaming broth down his throat.
The meal, and the preparation for the trip to St. Mungo's, were done in absolute silence.
* * *
"Ah, Hermione," greeted the blonde witch at the receptionist desk. "What are you doing in so early?"
"I found this," she jerked a thumb at Harry, "and decided that he needed to be treated."
"Another stray, hmmm?" the witch studied Harry. "Yes, he does look like he's been run through the mill. Room fourteen in the third ward is free."
"Thanks, Helga. Come on, you."
Hermione dragged Harry down the hall, though he was strong enough by now to walk under his own power. A lift carried them to the third floor, conveniently coming out next to room twelve.
Room fourteen conspired to be a longer term residence ward. Hermione settled Harry into the large bed and began scuttling around, checking all sorts of medical instruments.
"Um, Hermione?" ventured Harry. Silence.
"Yeah... listen... I'm sorry. Really." He was, though perhaps not for what she thought.
Hermione slowly turned and gave him an unreadable look. She walked over to the bed, wearing the same expression the whole way and, ominusouly, clutching a sharp bladelike object.
She suddenly lunged forward and Harry flinched involuntarily, not sure whether he was being attacked or what. Fortunately, Hermione dropped the blade first, thereby saving Harry from being impaled on the back end of her fierce hug.
"Just don't say no one cares if you die again!"
"I won't," promised Harry.
"And... promise me you won't leave until you're completely healed."
"Er-"
"Please," begged Herione, drawing back to look him in the eyes.
"Oh, ok. I won't go anywhere until you completely heal me."
Hermione smiled radiantly, but Harry couldn't miss the flash of triumph that crossed her face.
Ah, shit. What did I just promise?
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