I Promise

“I Promise”

AN- This is just a sticky-sweet piece I thought would be fun to write. If you read it, and like it, please review me telling me so. If you read it and hate it…well, I didn't make you read it. Feel free to give me corrective criticism, but pointless flames are unappreciated.

Disclaimer- JK would never write something as sappy-sticky-icky-sweet as this…I hope. I think she could pull it off much better than I. And therefore, you know I don't own it. Otherwise Harry Potter wouldn't be nearly as well-written and well-known.

Years ago, when Hermione had finally been allowed to visit an unconscious Harry in the hospital wing after the last adventure of their first year, she had made a promise to herself. Despite the times she'd regretted making this promise, and despite the times she wished she could ignore this promise, it was a promise she intended to keep no matter what the cost.

She swore silently to herself that she would always stand beside and protect Harry Potter.

It was that promise that drove Hermione to comfort Harry when everybody seemed to be against him. It was that promise that drove Hermione to comfort him, and follow him, even when her instincts were telling her to do otherwise.

It was that promise that kept Hermione in Hogsmeade that day.

“Behind you!” She shouted, trying to ignore her sore throat and scratchy voice in order to warn Tonks about the Death Eater behind her. In a rare display of grace, Tonks quickly spun around and stunned the approaching figure.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Hermione replied quickly, already involved once again in her own fight.

Tonks had stopped firing spells in order to better examine Hermione's arm. “You have a right nasty cut there, you know that, right?” She asked. Too tired to speak when it wasn't necessary, Hermione merely grunted in agreement. “You should probably have somebody look at it. It won't take long to heal, but if you leave it open like that it's going to get a lot worse. Anything could get infected out here, and infections are a lot worse than scrapes.”

Again, Hermione nodded in agreement and stunned the Death Eater she'd been battling. Most of the current Death Eaters were Voldemort's underlings, and didn't require too much of her attention, but she didn't want to risk it. “I know.” She replied, quickly wiping the sweat out of her eyes.

“Then why haven't you gone to the medical tent yet?” Tonks asked, sounding vaguely amused.

“The same reason Remus hasn't gone for his back.” Hermione replied steadily. Surprised, Tonks looked over to see that her boyfriend was still in the battle, despite his injured back.

“Damn that man.” She muttered under her breath. But Tonks didn't question Hermione further, because clearly she understood why Hermione hadn't left the battle yet.

Shivering, Hermione turned to see a group of floating dementors accompanying the next set of Death Eaters. Dredging up every happy memory she could bring to mind, Hermione set her patronis on them and turned back to the fresh round of Death Eaters, trying to reign in the panic that seemed to be overwhelming her.

“You don't look so good.” Ginny said from next to her, a little while later. Ginny herself had just gotten back from the first aid tent and had some sort of white paste on her neck and a part of her face. “Everyone's taken at least one break. Go ahead.”

“No, I'm fine, thanks.” Hermione replied, trying to concentrate on her opponent.

“Hermione, you need to rest. At least eat!” The redhead urged, turning concerned eyes on her. “You can only go so long without a break.”

Hermione swallowed back the fear she felt inside and continued fighting, but in response to Ginny she murmured, “If things go the way they're supposed to, I won't have to fight much longer.”

If Ginny heard her, she didn't say anything. The two girls continued fighting together in silence, their focus solely on their opponents.

And then, in what only seemed like moments after her conversation with Ginny, Hermione watched as Harry and Voldemort appeared seemingly out of nowhere, in the middle of a heated duel. As they continued to fire spells at one another, at a blindly fast speed, the fighting around the two slowly came to a halt.

Harry was losing badly, and everyone knew it. His head was bloody from a deep wound that appeared to be in the side of his skull. His left arm was hanging limply at his side, and at an odd angle. The robes he'd been wearing were singed on the back beyond repair, and Hermione had no doubt that beneath the singed was a slightly less-burnt back.

Hermione prayed as hard as she could that with his feet back on familiar ground, Harry would fight better. Because he clearly hadn't done very well in the first round of the battle.

Giants approached, and Aurors and even Order members ran. Some of the nurses in the medical tent abandoned their patients, while others stood frozen in terror at the situation, and didn't know what to do.

“He's falling.” Ron murmured to her, sounding horrified. With increasing terror, Hermione watched as Harry started to cave under the barrage of spells that Voldemort was throwing mercilessly at him.

She watched as his lips thinned and his eyes narrowed behind his broken, dirty glasses in concentration. He swallowed hard and almost seemed to dig his heels deeper into the ground beneath him, but Hermione knew what was happening. Harry was dying.

Then, before Voldemort even said it, Hermione knew instinctively what was coming. The Cruciatus Curse would end Harry's life in the slowest, most painful way possible, and would break not only Harry, but Hermione's promise to protect him.

So Hermione did the only thing she could think to do; she apparated in front of Harry, determined to protect him from the oncoming curse. For a few moments, she felt the worse pain she'd ever felt in her entire life, unlike anything she had ever felt before. Then she blacked out.

When she woke up, someone was holding her hand and whispering to her, telling her comforting words of reassurance, and that she was going to be okay, but Hermione immediately pushed their concern for her well-being aside. She was sliding in and out of consciousness, and too confused to speak.

When she finally awoke to nothing worse than a dry throat, Hermione took a moment to remember the most recent events, and when she couldn't, realized that somebody was there with her, holding her hand.

Softly, whoever it was whispered quietly, “Please, Hermione, don't leave me now. I don't think I can get through all of this alone. I really need you now, Hermione. Please don't go…”

Blinking blearily, Hermione squinted through the dark surrounding her in the hospital wing and saw Harry, wiping his eyes with his right hand and holding her hand with his left.

Smiling, she tried to reassure him, tell him something to comfort him, but she couldn't speak through her dry mouth and around her swollen tongue. Instead, she tightened her loose grip on his hand.

Shocked, Harry looked up, then smiled and wrapped her in his arms. For a moment, Hermione was afraid she might get sick from the pain and her head was spinning. As soon as she was in Harry's arms, her pain and fear was replaced by comforting warmth.

“I thought I'd lost you.” He murmured, holding her close.

Smiling, Hermione replied, “I'm not going anywhere, Harry. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere.”

Harry and Hermione faced the rest of their lives much like they had faced that war; side by side. The only difference was that now, they were closer than ever. Together they married, raised their kids, and grew old together.

And next to Lily and James Potter's tombstones in Godric's Hollow cemetery, there was another set of Potter tombstones, also side by side.

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