Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 6: My Heroine

the drugs begin to peak
A smile of joy arrives in me
But sedation changes to panic and nausea
And breath starts to shorten
And heartbeats pound softer.

I will save myself.

* * * * * *

A/N: Another chapter up and I would like to say anyone who has problems with the story, please email, especially since you are offering to be a beta for me, which would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you for the reviews and pleaes continue. I do take critcism(hence I'm looking for a beta), even flames, just please review.

* * * * * *

Harry did not want to move. When he awoke from his coma, he already knew the damage; he could feel what was missing, the chuck of his right leg that was removed in surgery. That and pain. The pain was definitely there. He did not want to move simply because if he did the pain would be worse. The majority of the pain was gone, so it wasn't like before, where he was aching all over; now the pain remained in his leg. So Harry did not want to move. He kept his eyes closed, took deep breathes and just wanted to go back to sleep, into his coma, where he could talk to his father, or someone, anyone. He shifted down in the sea of darkness again.

Everything had changed with the knowledge he gained from his father, but wisdom was not part of the deal, Harry figured out. Harry had the knowledge of who he was, but not the wisdom of what it all meant. He was a half-devil, as par with the curse afflicted upon the Potter line back to Gryffindor. He was the Librarian, meaning infinite power but itty-bitty living space for it. In other words, Harry was powerful. He just had no idea how to use it.

The second act of knowledge that Harry possessed was the knowledge that somewhere out in the big world, there was a person who was his second half, a knowledge to his power. Who it was Harry had no clue. In fact there were no clues to the identity of this person. For the love of Merlin, let her be a her! A little prayer to the dead world around him, and Harry drifted further along the black river under the black sky and surrounded by black earth. So he thought about his second half, the brain to his brawn if he could be cliché and he was alone so he would be so there. Don't fight him on this, its not how things work.

There was a telephone ringing in the distance, and Harry wished someone would answer it. Maybe she could. Well, the question of who she was important and had to be taken into account of his plans. Harry drifted on the river, thinking of who he knew that would fit into this idea of his 'second half'. He quickly threw out Cho as an option, followed by the rest of the Ravenclaws. Knowledge was one thing, and while the Ravenclaws had what he required none had ever interested him, save Luna but that was because she was interesting. The Slytherins weren't even considered, which may be a bad thing, but in truth, Harry didn't want to deal with any of them.

Hufflepuffs were a choice, Harry liked a good loyal woman, but again he never really met most of them, save knowing Susan Bones. And Gryffindors, well, most of them were brave yeah, but who could he, well there was Ginny. Yeah that seemed like a good choice. Ginny was smart, brave, loyal and ambitious, all the qualities that a person would look for in a second half. But the problem that Harry saw, especially now with an awaken idea of what Ginny was doing to him, was that she was obsessed with the idea of Harry.

For somewhere, else where, in the land in the light away from the dark ocean/river he floated on, there was this idea of Harry Potter. The idea of Harry Potter was a convoluted and messy topic that scholars to the next five hundred years would debate on the wrong topic. The idea of Harry Potter revolved around the Hero, and myths form and die around the Hero. Harry could not fall for a person who saw him as just the Hero, not just Harry.

Just Harry. He smirked and began to backstroke in his mind. He was bored again, despite thinking about this, and as tired as he was, he wanted to resolve the problem at hand. It wasn't necessary that Harry knew who was his second half at the moment, but he figured that he already knew who it was, someone who was close to him all his life, who had been there every step of the way. Someone named Hermione Granger. There was doubt, and there would be until he talked to her, but for the moment, he was content with the knowledge that there was a possibility that his heart belonged to a bossy know-it-all with bushy hair and legs to die for. Made more sense then anything else.

He just wanted to sleep at the moment, given his thinking had tired him out, not the coma thing, even with the pain, he decided that it was better that he was out of it, not he could react. He was just below the surface, waiting. How long was he waiting, he didn't know, but he did know that his leg only throbbed a bit, the morphine it must have been. That bloody phone was still ringing, why doesn't someone answer it. He couldn't get up yet, his feet not under him but before him. Harry waved at his feet when he looked down at his body, they were still there at least. Ginny didn't screw that up.

Harry knew. He knew everything that happened the moment it happen, and it wasn't because he stood in the Library or his father told him. Harry expected it, or rather, he forced the premonition and knowledge to come to him. It like hell too, doing that, but it was something Harry figured was necessary. At least now, when ever he decided it was time to break the water's tensions and surface from beneath the darkness, he could begin what he needed to do, which he figured was a lot. Problem equal to the number of questions he would be required to answer once he awoke. He reached for the surface, but his arm fell down and slowly, Harry drifted back into the darkness.

The ringing hadn't stopped.

Harry drifted back to just underneath the surface, feeling that it was time to get to work. His leg hurt, the telephone hadn't stopped ringing yet. And now was not the time to be resting. He just couldn't reach the surface of the darkened water, stretching and stretching. His arms would break the tension and he could not be free.

He growled in anger. He hated when things weren't going his way. Reaching out again, ignoring that damn ringing, Harry grasped the edge of the light and the darkness, where both of the world met. Just beyond his grasp was consciousness and he lied still in the slumber land. Someone was holding him, offering their help their strength, which Harry took gladly. Never had he felt safe before as that person's hand on him, but now was not the time for just relaxing in the glow of safety. He hated when plans didn't go according to what he wanted.

And Harry had been planning for a long time.

The surgery kept him under for almost eight hours. In that time, Harry extended it enough so that he was able to exist for eight days, absorbing the information of his life, as that was the most he had access to as well as talk with his father about his further as a devil. In those eight days, since Harry had little access to any of his powers, only what being in the Library allowed him, which also excluded any knowledge he didn't know, but a devil's blood contained a great deal of knowledge, so Harry was able to keep himself informed of what was possible, but not how.

This was not time for sleep. Now was the time for action. Action could not be conducted lying down, but rather, a person had to be up and moving.

Harry wanted to be moving.

He needed to be moving.

Fuck this.

* * * * * *

Hermione was sitting next to Harry, holding his hand. Her parents were standing their with her, watching the young wizard breath in and out slowly. She wanted to Weasleys sent away for what they did to Harry, but there was nothing they could do for the crime they committed. Well, no one else considered it a crime except the Grangers, especially Hermione.

It was a betrayal against Harry, the worst crime a person could commit, she blamed no one but Ginny, and maybe Molly. Ginny for conspiring and setting up Harry so he would be injured and dependent, for going against Harry's wishes. Molly for allowing Ginny to indulge in the Boy-Who-Lived fantasies, and for feeding them to her daughter in the first place.

Molly was outraged when Hermione demanded that both of them leave, and she was shocked when the Matron of the Weasley refused to do so, simply because she could take care of Harry better than the doctors, or her parents, or Hermione. No one took care of Harry, that was her job.

Was her job. Recently, he's been so injured and in dire need of medical attention, her job was taken away from her. And placed in the hands of one Ginny Weasley, a crime that there was no greater. Now Harry was lying in a hospital bed with a hole in his leg, wounded more than he wanted to be, as if he wanted to be hurt in the first place. Harry would have thrived through the pain had he been given the chance. But that chance was taken away from him, and now he was left in pain for the rest of his life. There would be therapy and there would be more doctors and there would -

Red lightning tore through the room and her parents jumped back. Hermione did not move, she would not move from Harry's side. The lightning was coming from him, and his grip tightened on her hand. If he could, he probably would have pulled her closer into his arms, but the dead hand that held her was no longer dead. A guttural groan came from the shadows, willow-wisps of purple light flickering around the room. Screams of pleasure and pain echoed through the occupants ears, the light turned the room the shade of blood as a red liquid filled the fluorescent lights above them. Runes in a decadent purple flashed around, ones that she did not recognize from her studies. Hermione pulled herself closer to Harry as the room's angles shifted slightly, bending unnaturally beneath a phantom weight. Her parents were hold each other tight as the lightning continued to stretch out and reach beyond the darkness. No one spoke a word, the screams that enveloped the room came from outside, the room, the world, the existence.

Then Hermione blinked.

When her eyes were opened again, everything was back to normal. No lightning, nothing singed, no willow-wisps of darkness, no screams, no blood-red vision, no abnormal angles. Her parents were standing next to the window surprised as she was. Because she was laying next to Harry and he was slowly stroking her hair, her head on his chest, rising slowly and falling effortlessly. For a moment, neither said anything, and Hermione had never felt as safe as she did at that moment. In Harry's arms, him the injured one, there was nothing that could hurt her. And like a mother lion, no one would hurt her Harry from this position. It was time that she took an active role in protecting him, rather than assuming someone would watch him. "That," he whispered through his dry throat, "hurt." She didn't move from her comfortable lumpy pillow.

Hermione didn't know if she should cry or slap him for scaring her, so she just stayed there. "at least the ringing stopped." he continued, and laced his finger through her hair. Every muscle tightened and her fear gripped her. Why was she afraid. She wanted to move, but his grip was tight, and Hermione relaxed. Harry would protect her. Wasn't she suppose to protect him. "You try to move again, Hermione, and I'm stupefying you. I needed a warmer blanket and you work great." she giggled against his chest, and he joined in her laughter, only to begin coughing.

"Am I hurting you?" Hermione sat up and looked with worry, her eyes searching his green ones. Sharper than ever, and something sparked behind them.

"You are now,"he replied, and pulled her back down. "You aren't dating Ron, so that means for now, you are my blanket. Now, lie flat and keep me warm." he paused for a moment, and screwed up her face. "that wasn't meant to be sexual."

Mr. Granger was the one who snorted, while Hermione tried to sit up again. "Blankets don't move." Harry smirked and pulled her back down. "Now stop moving. Missus Granger, Mr. Granger? Can you get a nurse, I'm sure they'd like to check on me." Apparently, he wanted them out so he could talk to her alone. Which was fine by her. Hermione had developed a case of blushing and couldn't stop, so she buried her face into his chest. And Harry gladly pulled her closer. "Thank you," he said, his voice husky and gravelly, sending chills down her spine.

"You gave me quite the scare, Mr. Potter," Hermione said once her parents were gone from the room.

"You?" Harry chuckled. "I'm the one who just had their world turned upside down by everything, including Ginny's folly." Hermione sat up. "What did I say about you being my blanket? Merlin, I thought you listened well." He tried to pull her back down, but Hermione fought him this time. She wanted to look at his eyes and figure out where the boy she knew went.

Hermione slapped his chest. "Hitting a cripple, how low of you, Ms. Granger."

"Making light of your problems, Mr. Potter?" Hermione replied. "You could have died."

"But I didn't."

"But you could have."

"But I didn't." Harry began to sit up. "listen Hermione, after I kick the nurses out of my room, and the doctor, you and I are going to have a long talk okay?" He groaned but slowly pulled himself up. Hermione let go, but didn't move from his side. "A lot has changed as you could tell from my awakening here."

"I'll say," Hermione replied. "Like you knowing-"

"Shh..."Harry placed a figure over her lips. She playfully nipped at it for silencing him, and had the decency to blush after wards. "I swear on my Father's life, Hermione, that you will know everything that I know."

"You're father's dead, Harry."

"right, well, thats one of the things I'll tell you." he smirked. "And here come the Nazi Nurses, banish them quickly, before they start doing more inane tests." Two nurses came in and glared at him and her. Him for his attitude, despite just waking up from his drug induced coma and surgery, and her for lying in bed with a patient.

Hermione's blush deepened and slipped away from Harry, not before he squeezed her closer, hugging her with one arm. "You kept your promise," he whispered. "And for that I love you." He let her go and then returned the glare of the nurse. "see I can do it too, now are we going to get these pointless test that tell you exactly how stupid your surgery was?"

Hermione started at Harry as he let her go; he didn't ignore her, rather his eyes kept on drifting to her as he bantered with the nurses, insulting them, the doctors, everyone he could think of for their stupidity. She left the room, unnoticed by the nurses, but the forlorn look on Harry's face told her that he really didn't want her to leave. She just needed to work some things out.

The Harry Hermione knew and loved, yes loved, was not this forward and so...so... hot for the lack of a better word. Lying on him, she felt his chest, and never realized how built he was. Harry was still scrawny and thin, but underneath all those bag robes and cloths was this skinny built man. And his eyes, Hermione got lost in them, now that he wasn't wearing his glasses, the emerald, and they were emerald not just this bright green, there was this sparkle to them that Dumbledore couldn't imitate. The power within them... the chills returned.

A witch could tell a powerful wizard from the rest of wizards. It wasn't necessarily the most important thing in a relationship with a wizard, but she could always tell in the men she was attracted to. It was simply another thing that attracted a witch. And for Hermione, it wasn't that important until now. She never understood what all the fuss was but with Harry so...primal, so powerful, so Harry, she understood now. Hermione knew that Harry was power, not simply powerful like Dumbledore, but power; he was always more powerful than Ron, but now....Now Harry was almost radiating power, and that pull towards him, the attraction she felt before all of this, before his changes.... The animalistic part of her just wanted to...

Hermione sought out her parents, hoping that they were near by. At least she would find some comfort there. She couldn't be with Harry, but she was always a daddy's girl, so talking to her parents might help a bit, especially her mother. Mary Granger seemed to understand her daughter so well that often it was her mother who sought out the only child and helped her. Joe Granger knew more about people than anyone she knew. Maybe between the two of them, they could help her with her emotions. Maybe that was why she held them in, because the two people who could read her, one being her mother, weren't there for her the last two years. The other was seated in the other room, apparently throwing things now at the nurses. Their sixth year he was focused on Ginny and last year he wasn't even around. And now he was the cause of her rampant emotions.

Which she hoped it hide once more. Harry did not need to deal with another fan-girl swooning over the Great Harry Potter, the Chosen One. Now that he returned to the wizarding world, certainly people would send him after Voldemort. He didn't need that kind of trouble that came with a girl friend like her. He didn't need to worry about her. Besides, why would he want to date a little know-it-all like her?

"You finished your tests yet?" Harry shouted from his room. The Grangers were standing next to the nurses station, smirking and laughing between them. "I want to sleep, I want my blanket." her father burst into laughter, and her mother only hid hers behind her eyes. Hermione's blush deepened further. One of the nurses came running out as a bedpan flew and hit the wall.

"He's a bit of a trouble maker, isn't he?" Mary asked her daughter. She opened her arms and welcomed Hermione into them. She hugged tightly, thankful that her mother was there.

"Yeah," Hermione replied and took a step back, looking at the door where Harry was hidden behind, curtains hiding him further.

"You wouldn't have it any other way would you?"

"No," her eyes didn't move, they stayed focused on where Harry should be. Hermione didn't notice the approaching Weasleys, talking with the Doctor. Mr. Weasley had learned enough how and what to say, and now that Hermione refused to speak with anyone, his relationship with the Grangers was tense. The rest of his family present had no relationship with the Grangers. "I wouldn't mum." She smiled at her parents and watched as the doctor entered the room with the Weasleys, and wished she could be a fly on that way.

"I wouldn't."

* * * * * *

"I see you are awake," Dr. Addy said. He was the surgeon who operated on Harry, removing the tissue from his muscle. "Though much earlier than we expected."

"Well, despite your riveting surgery that you just preformed without my consent, or maybe because of said surgery, I figured that it was more important I stay awake to make sure that we don't have that again." He paused for a moment waiting for Dr. Addy to reply. "though I must say that your surgery works better than warm milk. Just can't hold my attention like it used to." Harry smirked. He hated his hospital gown, but was forced into it as it was procedure. First chance he got, he was transfiguring it into something more comfortable, like a hooded sweat shirt or something. A nice long robe. Something to hide his scrawny ass in.

"Yes, well," Dr. Addy half-smiled, confused. In silence, the man worked, while Harry ignored the look from Mrs. Weasley and how Ginny was inching her way over to him. Harry sat back and watched in his silence, fuming about what he knew was going to happen. Mrs. Weasley would attempt to baby him, and Ginny.... well, Harry really doubted that the girl would survive another attempt like she did before.

For a while no one spoke, though Ginny kept trying to inch her way over to Harry. A firm grip by her mother held the girl away. Despite the obsession each had with him, one a husband the other a son, and Harry hoped that he was right with who was who there because other wise it would be creepy and wrong, definitely wrong.

"Everything seems to be okay. In fact great. After a simple blood work test, we'll be able to know for certain but I believe that potassium and the cytokines are gone from your body."

"Which is what would have happened if you listened to my orders in the first place." the doctor ignored him for the moment.

Dr. Addy okayed him and began to speak about physical therapy, and Harry shook his head. "No." He did not want to deal with this hospital any more than he had to and that was including physical therapy. There would be pain, yes, and there was pills for that, medicine. But his muscles, despite the atrophy would be fine, were stronger than before. He was Harry now, not the Boy-who-Lived.

"What do you mean no?" Harry sat up and pushed the doctor away. Molly made a move, but was stopped, as though by a wall of air. Which was what Harry placed between them.

"I mean that since you doctors can not follow orders, one as simple as "do not touch my leg while I am under that coma", I do not want to deal with you. Which includes any and all treatment from this point on." He let his anger at the whole situations throw and snap and spark the air around them. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny could see the magic, while the doctor was left wondering when the air became so static.

"but we were following orders." Harry acted surprised. The forced premonition told him all of this, but they needed to see Harry learning all of it. Then he could continue on with his plans.

"Whose?" Dr. Addy, the pentacle of being cool. Harry must have scared him because the man was threatening to wet himself as looked at the Weasleys, Ginny still trying to reach Harry, to be next him, and Mrs. Weasley smiling sweetly. Harry nodded.

"We've discussed my not staying here, so leave, there is nothing left to be said," Harry didn't move his eyes from them, allow Dr. Addy a swift exit from the room.

"Well, so it wasn't against my orders," Harry said. "Someone decided they knew what's best for me."

"Harry, dear, we were only looking out for what was best for you." She wanted to come closer, but he wouldn't let her.

"And you don't think I know what my body wants?" Harry asked. "what it needs? Why? Do you think it is yours?" His glare focused on Ginny's, only to find that it was returned in full and then something extra behind those eyes. Plans can change but this change was not anticipated. Something had happened to Ginny, something that was from a long time ago, before he had met the girl, before the obsession was obvious. For a devil at least.

Harry was still learning to be a devil though.

Ginny was about to reply when Remus showed up, tired and haggard looking, a few scratches here and there on his face. "Harry!?" His new god-father, friend and confident next to Hermione, was terrified for what had happened to Harry. "Dear Merlin, you're alright." he rushed over, pushing Ginny aside and hugged him tightly. "When Tonks finally let me out, we came over as quick as we could and-"

"Breathing helps," Harry replied, but returned the hug deeply. "Now, everyone leave, while Moony and his missus and I talk." There was no room for debate or questioning in his voice. "That especially means you, Ginevra. Out now, or we'll see who is the stronger one." His eyes flashed, the room darkened slightly. His skin slowly began to crawl, bugs from within, stretching outward, reaching with his power. Each a bastion of magic and raw ether, yearning to burrow from within and strike out.

It was a change over; he first felt it when he burst through the wards he placed around him to keep him asleep until his body was ready. His power was surging, growing and thrashing as waves along a cliff. A storm was held in his arms, the bugs he felt the trickling of that power edging outward and stretching to the world around him. "Begone demon!" he uttered, not shouted not whispered, only a breathe escaped and so did the words he did not know he said. Remus jumped back and looked at Ginny, whose appearance had not changed .

The little witch slithered away, out the door and Harry's sight for a moment.

"now," Harry smirked and relaxed. No more bugs and no more anger threatening to destroy the room. "that company is much more pleasant, we can talk."

"Harry, I...." Remus knew. The old werewolf knew about the demon and devil, and the difference, the ever important difference. If anyone of the Marauders knew about Harry and his family's secret, it would Remus. Tonks stood back, confused, worried about Harry as she would a little brother.

"How much do you know?" he asked.

"I researched it after your father came of age in his sixth year." Harry nodded, which made sense given that the only thing that delayed Harry's transformation was his accident and subsequent coma. "That is when everything changed: between him and your mother, him and us. That was when James understood his role and purpose in life. The time to be a rule breaker was over for him." Remus shrugged. "I figure you know a lot about it."

"I met my father, and we discussed many things, including our Father," Harry replied. "Now, enough of depressing matters. Its time I get out of here, we start planning our victory party, and possibly get slushed, and I make passionate wild hot love to Hermione for a week straight." Remus paused at that, while Tonks snorted. "What?" Harry looked as though it was the werewolf who had spoken rather than him. He glanced at the metamorph, who was threatening to burst into laughter. "Wait did I say that out loud?"

"Yes you did," Tonks began to laugh at the poor teen, Remus just stood there, shocked he had said anything like that. Harry at least had the decency to blush, "Are those your plans, Harry?"

"I meant to say sleep," he replied, "but that is just as dirty isn't it?" Tonks laughed harder and came over to hug Harry. The old werewolf took a seat next to Harry and picked up the remote, while the metamorph took one on the old werewolf.

"You're okay, thats all that matters."

"I'm allowed to be a randy teen thank you very much." It wasn't often that Harry got himself caught in a bind, well, really.

"I don't know if it was what you said versus who it was about." Harry shrugged; it wasn't something he was worried about. As long as Hermione didn't hear about it, he should be fine, even then, he seriously doubted that there would be much of -

Harry's back arched as pain echoed throughout his body. The potassium and cytokines were still in his system, along with the drugs that knocked him out, and his leg ached, and his body was fighting off the morphine. He was able to mask all of them, ignore them, simply because he wanted to be awake. He needed to be awake, and now this-this-this was ruining everything. Something was wrong, another was trying to invade and control his mind. How it got by his careful systems of protection, he'll never know, but for the moment, Harry was in trouble. Voldemort would be unable to even step close to him right now, figuratively speaking of course. No, the attack was coming from within. Remus stood up quickly, with Tonks frozen in place and falling to floor. The werewolf rushed to the door. "No!" Harry gasped. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, work lungs work damn it.

"Harry, I can't just-"

He took another breath of air, willing his body to work again. His pulse was slowly dying and his magic was allowing it. He wouldn't. "I said no!" He needed to fix his body himself, the doctor's medicine would do nothing but hindering his work. Harry took another breathe, taking the energy from the world around him. His mind shut off and instinct took over. Something was wrong and he had no idea what it was. The lights dimmed the machines hissed, and the room got colder. Another breathe.

Work damn it.

Work!

He was a half-devil of the first order, rivaling the dukes themselves. Mephistophiles and Baalzebul wouldn't hold against him. Even his half-sister would tremble beneath his power. And that was solely fiendish, not including his Library powers. He would make his body work right, despite all its problems.

Even if it killed him.

Another breathe, and the room grew much colder. Harry could focus again, and with instinct driving, he pulled the rest of the energy in. The room went dark, machines turned off, and ice formed on the windows. Remus shivered as the temperature continued to drop. He opened the door and stepped out to escape, Tonks right on his heels. Both peeled off in different directions, looking for someone to help him. Harry did not notice.

Twisting the angles, drawing in the power from the reality itself, Harry fought what was plaguing him. He couldn't sense it before, but now, with his breathe threatening to leave him he finally felt the danger, the poison in his body, trying to destroy his mind and his heart. A devil was immune to most poison, but poisons came in so many flavors that it was often hard to judge what was a poison and what was just tasty.

But a love potion was a poison of the mind, and Harry's mind skills were lacking in most parts. Voldemort was one thing, but a potion, something internal... Harry was screwed. Even with his devilish transformation, he was still having trouble with his thoughts and knew that for the most part was exposed to all things psychic. Rather, Harry was in charge of his body though. He was human and devil, and with intimate knowledge of his body's machinas now, he could force the potion out. It would just hurt.

How it was placed in his body he had no idea. Harry could handle most of the problems left over from the surgery and the induced coma. Hell the drugs were still in his system, he was lucky to mask them when the doctor came and visited . Now he was fighting all of it. He stopped breathing again, and couldn't focus on his lungs. The potion/poison needed to be removed from his system or else something bad would happen.

Like the hospital blowing up. No biggie.

With one final breath in, Harry drew in all the power from the hospital for a single moment. The lights flickered and the temperature dropped dangerous low in the room. Ice was forming on all the surfaces, a deadly blue hue. His skin was pale, icicles were hanging from his nose and his hair. He was glowing dark purple, as the aura slowly picked out all the particles that remained of the love potion. A pink gas flowed from Harry's skin, spiraling around above him as he expelled the potion. The process hurt. It hurt a lot. Normally a potion digested is expelled in the same manner which all things digested are. Waste is waste. But for the potion to be removed through his pores, removing every trace from his blood system through the smallest holes of his body, hurt.

If he could breathe he would have screamed. For now, Harry dealt with it by screaming anyways, just silently.

The potion flowed out of his body, expelling all the poisoning of his mind and the rest of the potassium and cytokines in his body. He couldn't remove the drugs, his energy draining. His leg hurt, his chest hurt, his heart hurt. Harry simply hurt. Worse than before, but he was no stranger to pain. His bones felt like they were breaking and his skin was being flayed. This was the first second, the second one got interesting. And then he blacked out.

Bloody hell, he just awoke from the darkness.

Damn that telephone too.

* * * * * *

Hermione was eating with her parents in the cafeteria, her mind was focused on Harry four stories above them. She wanted to be with him, talk to him, protect him. No one was able to protect Harry like she could. Conversation did not interest her and food did not either, and her parents were silent at the moment, finally letting her think in peace.

Something had happened in that room, something powerful. The walls of reality were bent for a moment as the energy bleed into their world. Hermione read a few books before she left Hogwarts for the final time about the Library, as the leading theory behind it was an alternative reality. Sometimes, when the realities over lap, the perception of reality alters to compensate for the change in realities. Often when something was entering the current reality. Granted this was what one of the books said, since none of them could agree on anything about the idea of alternative realities. Most books argued that there was no such thing and that the Library was just a polite euphemism for Hell, which said something about the metaphor for knowledge and logic.

To her, the Library was the home of what was known about everything. Every book in existence, along with everything thought and everything that will be thought. The Library was knowledge. Which lead to the idea that those who were corrupted by the power of knowledge were the demons, not necessarily that the Library was the home of these people, but rather their origin for their greed. The power lied in what was known. The old saying "knowledge is power" proved true with the Library, especially from what Luna was saying about its purpose to record all events and knowledge.

Her salad tasted bland and the drink was luke-warm, nothing was right. The room seemed duller and the sounds deafened a bit. Everything she touched felt slightly off, Hermione couldn't explain it. Even her cloths felt uncomfortable, and she choose them specifically because they were. Hermione just wanted to be with Harry. He promised her answers.

Hermione liked answers.

Which always lead to questions like why the hospital suddenly became really, really cold all of the sudden and lights flickered on and off. Hermione shivered and looked around, everyone's breathe hung in the air as though winter had come five months early. For the temperature to drop from twenty two degrees, thank you air conditioning, to freezing, something had to be drawing a great deal of heat, or more importantly energy. Probably why the lights flickered. But what could have that ability to-

Remus came running into the cafeteria, shivering worse than the rest of the room. He must have been close to the...the...source. "Hermione, there you are, thank Merlin I found you."

She stood up and looked at the exhausted werewolf. "Its Harry, isn't it?" The older man nodded.

"Something's happening to him, I don't know-"

"Harry drew in a great deal of power, how or for why I don't know." Hermione said before looking at the ceiling. "He's in pain; I have to help him." the worried look quickly turned into a glare. "if that bint lays so much as a hand on him..." Hermione ran out of the room, needing to see Harry, to be with him.

She ignored the elevator, running for the stairs. Her first step on them and she was standing outside Harry's door. Doctors were there, along with nurses, who were trying to warm up his body. No Weasley's, for which she was thankful for. Whatever the temperature was outside of that room, probably around ten degrees Celsius, she could have sworn that it was way below that in Harry's room. The windows were open, and the sunlight was melting ice that had formed around the room. Harry was pale, deathly pale. None of the machines made any noise, but Hermione figured that was from lack of power in the room. The three nurses and two doctors were around him, debating about transferring him from the bed to a gurney, where she could only assume that he was being taken to a room with power.

But the worst of it was the two doctors giving his heart CPR. He was breathing, she could see his breathe in the frigid air, but his heart wasn't working. And Hermione felt the magic in the air, all from his breathe. He must have willed his magic to keep breathing, but forgot about his heart. "Miss, we need you to leave." Hermione ignored the nurse and walked over to the wall. Harry was fine for the moment. He was alive. Right now, her mind was focused on something extremely odd.

The burn mark on the wall in the shape of a person.

Hermione pushed past the nurse and walked to the wall, her hand out. She was afraid to touch, the magic was stronger than what Harry was releasing in his breathe. Probably because it is so concentrated. Her finger tips grazed the image, and she gasped, pulling her hand back quickly. She felt a shock throughout her body, but also, love. Concentrated obsessive love. Towards.... Hermione touched it again, forcing herself to ignore the tingling and focus on that love. How this was all working, she had no idea. There was no contact love potion, thank Merlin. It had to be digested and travel through the blood stream. Closing her eyes, moving through the love, her palm on the image's chest, Hermione focused further, biting her lip in thought. Then she found the smell.

She pulled her hand back. Blood was in the air, burned into the image, taking all of the love potion with it. Harry was poisoned and did what he knew best, made magic work for himself. He twisted the laws of time and space and magic to remove what was hindering him, preventing him from being Harry. A love potion is a poison of the mind, and Harry's defenses, magical and none, were horrid. The boy could not lie to save his life, especially to her. He wore his emotions on his sleeve with a bright neon light telling the world.

"Miss, you need to leave the room now." the nurse repeated. But Hermione ignored her.

The two doctors were still doing CPR, while the nurses were warming him up. They were waiting for his heart to start up before moving him to a gurney. Hermione walked back all of them, moved the doctor away from Harry's mouth, leaned down next to his ear. Her hand petted his sweaty hair and whispered as sweetly as she could. "now, Harry, you know better than sleeping like this. Its time to wake up."

Harry sat straight up, taking in deep breathes. He threw a doctor off of him and pushed the nurses away. Hermione smiled and walked around to the side of his bed. Power had finally come back on and the room was warming up slowly. All the machines registered him awake and well. She placed a hand on his chest, his bare muscled...chest...

Hermione swallowed and shook her head. She had felt his body before when he demanded that she be his blanket. But this, this was something else. This was Harry 2.0, the new version of Harry, who had power unlike anything that walked the earth before, and was smoking hot. Hermione didn't even notice Harry's hand on her until his other caressed her cheek gently. She found herself leaning into it. "My blanket has returned." he said softly, smiling the entire time. Eyes blood shot, filled with care and something she didn't recognized, his pale skin sweaty and warm, and that Potter smirk that never changed.

Harry turned his attention to the doctors. "See what happens when you let things happen the way they should. Now that we found out how useless you all are, we can get my release papers, I can leave with my blanket, and everyone is happy" Harry waved his hand, the bed went back into its proper position, the burnt image on the wall disappeared, and the temperature returned to normal. Which of course lead to the machines around him exploding in sparks. "Now leave. You can hook me up to new gizmos after I have eaten and talked to my blanket." he waved his hand again, as a king would dismiss his vassals and the doctors and nurses quickly left, none of them understanding what had just occurred but accepting it completely.

Hermione smiled as she watched them all leave. Turning to Harry, she said, "These aren't the droids you're looking for." He gave her a confused look, not quite understanding what she was talking about. "We'll watch the movie later, then you'll understand what you just did." Harry nodded and closed his eyes. She felt his weariness and tiredness. Whatever he just did used a great deal of energy. He was shivering and whatever warmth he was giving off before was gone.

"I wish I could give you all the answers you want Hermione, but I-" Harry started but Hermione placed a finger over his lips. And then climbed into bed with him.

"answers later, what ever you did to your drained all of your energy Harry. You need sleep, honest to Merlin sleep, not the coma, not the unconsciousness you seem to be so fond of." she snuggled into his chest, and his breathing steadied. The shivering stopped as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "And if you call me your blanket one more time, I'm hexing you Mr. Potter." Hermione looked up at him, yawning and nodding his response, ignoring her glare.

Hermione felt his breathe steading out, until his chest rose and fell in a pattern a metronome would be proud of. His heart beat lulled her into sleep, as she wrapped her arms around his chest, her leg intertwined with his. Ginny be damned, Harry was hers.

The past few days have left Hermione's mind on overdrive, thinking about her friendship with Ron, with Harry, and her life in general. Ron was a great boyfriend, but only for a while. After they became more intimate, everything went down hill, that was all the relationship was about to him. Not being held and talking to someone when your down. But it was Ron, her crush for years right? Only all those emotions, that 'love' she felt for the boy she knew disappeared after that one night, though they were together for almost two months afterwards. They ended things after Harry was finally found, here at the hospital. And now, she was thinking about the boy-who-was-her-pillow.

Harry was a confidant for the longest time, a person she could talk to, and the person who would come to her if he had a problem. But sixth year changed everything, with the Prince book and Ginny... Hermione snarled, and Harry pulled her closer, his hand on her back, running in small circles. He was asleep, she knew that much, the smile on his face gave it away, and even now he was comforting her. Everything changed when she saw him again. Ginny had taken Harry away, apparently on purpose compared to what she once thought.

The image burned into the wall, the intense feelings of love and obsession, Harry expelled a love potion through his skin. Hermione didn't know how he was able to do it, but apparently, it took a great deal of energy, given that he stole almost all the heat of the building and the electronics around him. And the image that came to her mind when she touched the wall was Ginny. Normally, a love potion does not create love, it creates an infatuation, and allows the chance for love. The problem lies in overdosing. The love portion of the potion comes from the constant and ever increasing dosage of the potion until the physiological and psychological aspects of love are duplicated by the body. But like a drug, the body is addicted and without it, severe hatred and anger come through the withdrawal stages.

The amount of love and obsession that she felt though, Hermione was worried. The dosage must have been exponentially increased, and at that level, if she was dosed, she would be in love with the girl, despite having firm groundings in her own sexuality. She would have to guess somewhere around 64 times to 256 times the normal dosage which is around a teaspoon at a ratio of one part to five hundred. How Harry fought it amazed her, and only added more questions to her list.

But right now, sleep was calling for her and Harry pulled her so close that Hermione really wished there weren't cloths between them. Damn priority sake's, she smiled as she snuggled into Harry's chest for the sleep she desperately needed.

Mary smiled to herself when they finally arrived at Harry's room. He was sleeping again, with Hermione in his arms, and she knew both were smiling. Her daughter had been all out of sorts the past couple days and now with Harry safe, relatively speaking, she was almost herself again.

Almost, because the daughter that Mary knew was not open enough, nor foolish enough, to climb into the bed of a boy while her parents were right there for future blackmail. Though she doubted that Hermione cared that her parents were any where near the two of them at the moment. The two of them clung to each other as though they were the only ones in the world, an anchor to each other.

"everything okay, honey," Joseph asked, wrapping his arms around her waist. Mary tended to worry about things, but Joseph was always calm and collect, understanding that everything happens in its time. And here, their only daughter was lying in bed with a boy whom she talked about for over six years of her life, who was her life for those six years, who brought out the woman in the girl and was the reason the girl was no longer a sole, lonely bookworm.

"it couldn't be better." She smiled and leaned back into her husband. Her daughter was happy, with a boy who would almost be good enough for her, despite all the oddness that surrounded him. She wished that this moment would last forever, but knew that ideal wishes and dreams would rarely come true.

Like now.

"Is Harry okay!?" Ginny came running up, in hysterics, trying to make her way to Harry's room. Thank the Lord and his servants that the blinds were closed, otherwise Ginny probably would have become even more hysterical. Mr. Weasley was fascinated by all the Muggle activities, but he followed his wife and daughter nevertheless.

"he's fine, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley grabbed hold of her daughter as she was rushing towards the door. The woman feared for his daughter, and as did Mary, but for two different reasons. She feared for Ginny from the display of power that occurred in the hospital. A elderly witch must know what has occurred, especially when she was a mother. Harry's wild magic had disrupted the hospital, she had heard the various doctors rushing around, trying to help the patients whose life support diminished as the power failure for that single moment. Mary on the other hand, feared that Ginny would do something incredibly stupid, like try to harm Hermione or Harry. Harry was powerful yes, and since it was looking like he was, for the lack of a better term, claiming Hermione, any harm that would come to her he would respond in full force to protect and avenge. Hermione on the other, had taken it upon herself to be Harry's protector. Saving the world and he couldn't save himself, so that left Hermione with the job of ensuring Harry's safety and health. "He's probably just sleeping right now." A pleading look at the Grangers begging to help was almost enough for Mary to keep quiet. The matriarch of the Weasley clan angered many people, and help should not be given freely to those who do not deserve it.

"Yes he is," Hermione replied, walking out of Harry's room, stretching. She looked like she had woken up from a long sleep, her hair bushier than normal, standing on ends, and her cloths rumpled. If it weren't for the fact that Mary knew better, she'd say that Hermione was caught red-handed snogging. "I'd prefer he'd stay that way. The past few days have been really tough on him and sleep is the best thing for Harry right now."

Remus and Tonks were talking off to the side, quietly and shooting looks at Hermione and Ginny. Remus was smirking, while Tonks looked as though she was about to bolt from the room. The sheer difference was enough to make Mary pause. Did Remus know something odd about Harry, something that was truly dangerous? Then again, Tonks slowly smiled and still looked like she wanted to bolt from the room, probably to return with a camera. The smile on Remus' face never left as he was talking with Tonks. Something was going on, that much was certain.

"What were you doing in there, young lady?" Mrs. Weasley asked, shocked and bewildered. Her eyes moved back and forth between Mary and her daughter, questioning both of them. "That is not-"

"The behavior you would expect a girl and her friend?" Hermione finished. Mary didn't know what to say, but the hand on her waist calmed her down, waiting for the explanation. "Harry has been through a lot these past few days, two surgerys, a medical coma, heart failure from potion overdose, along with-"

Tonks stepped forward, the Auror taking charge. "A potion overdose?" Hermione nodded. "How do you know?" Ginny was glaring at Mary's daughter now, making her question what exactly the redhead's role was in the situation.

"I felt the effects." The confusion must have been evident on everyone's faces. "Harry expelled all of the love potion from his body. I don't know how, but I do know that the ratio had to be extraordinarily high, enough to make me attracted to a girl..." Hermione mumbled something and trailed off, blushing as she looked back to Harry's room. Hermione once talked about love potions, how it can not really make love but build on the current relationship that existed, so infatuation turned into lust, destroy inhibition. It takes a controlled mind to prevent love potions from truly controlling a person. If the potion was in a large enough ratio, then it could potentially make a man homosexual, a woman lesbian, building off of friendship. It could even turn a brother or sister into a lover, but at level the potion would have stopped the heart and destroyed the brain. If something like that had occurred to Harry... "No, he burned the substance out through his skin. I don't know how he did, but he did. Through every pore in his body, the blood and the potion was burnt out."

"How can you know that happened?" Tonks asked, ever the investigator.

"A potion leaves the body like any other liquid. But Harry had to bend what his body could do and then bend the laws of physics along with biological and magical laws in order to do what he did. Hence the power surge. His room was empty of any heat and all the electrical equipment was completely dead. His heart stopped while was using magic to force his lungs to work. There was this image on the wall, burnt into the paint. You could taste the blood in the air and when I touched the image I felt that overwhelming love and lust."

Hermione shivered and hugged herself, wrapping in the warmth and the emotions she was holding back. Mary knew her daughter well enough to see that behind the terrified facade lied a lioness protecting what was hers. Often that lioness would never show, a being of power and desire and emotion and life that never reared its head in fear of reprisal, but now, maybe Hermione had found something to stand up for, if she couldn't stand for herself.

Tonks walked up to her daughter and they talked in hushed tones, words for just them. Whether it was magical and Tonks was taking her role as an Auror seriously right now, or the comfort of a friend, Mary did not know. Hermione looked at her mother, eyes watery, begging for the arms of her friend to be wrapped around her, for that friend to be standing up and with her, giving her the strength to be herself. Her eyes glistened, and she blinked and that cover was gone. Mary glided over to her daughter and hugged her tightly. The world was falling apart around them.

Terrorists were attacking governments and public works around the world, with focuses in the English Isles. Not all of them were connected with Voldemort, Mary figured this much out, but that did not deny there was a great evil within the world at the moment, an evil spreading across the lands and inflicting everyone it touched. Murder, rape, theft, hatred and fear bleed through the air and nothing was stopping it. The world had gone mad.

And they were left alone.

Everyone in this room, The Grangers, Remus and Tonks, and the three Weasleys.... well two, where did Ginny go?

* * * * * *

Harry was trying to sleep, trying to follow Hermione's orders, he really was, but something was off in the room. His body itched, little creatures running thousand of furry legs over his arms and legs. He didn't want to open his eyes, because Hermione wasn't there, but he needed to: something was wrong and required to be fixed.

He opened one eye, then the other. Ginny sat next to him, leaning over him. Merlin did she look sick. Gaunt and circles beneath her eyes, her once beautiful red hair in clumps and ragged brunt color, no longer vibrant and alive, this was not the Ginny Harry knew. But he held his tongue and waited.

"I guess you know now," she said, her voice tired and sick. She wouldn't lock eyes with Harry, hers downcast, his shifting in and out of focus.

Harry was silent.

"I knew you were meant to be mine when I first saw you, at the train station, all alone and scared, like me. I knew you were meant to be mine when ours eyes meet and you greeted me, treated me like a person not a sister. I knew you were meant to be mine when we first kissed, and I tasted you. Heaven. Something I've never had before."

The drugs in his system peaked: morphine and whatever else was used in his coma cocktail. He fought back his smile, there was no joy right now. Finally Ginny looked up at him, and Harry, but a stroke of luck, focused just enough to see her eyes before she turned away. For a moment, a single moment, Harry understood: he finally understood just what Ginny was.

Devils make pacts for their own advantage, giving but mostly taking. Demons on the other hand just take, and here Ginny was taken and never returned, at least as she was. Probably since the Chamber of Secrets incident. Which mean she was searching for what was taken. In this case, innocence, and in turn, love. Hence the potions and the overwhelming lust and desire. This was not the Ginny whom Harry knew, that Ginny had died along with the Harry from before. He had no idea what grew from the ashes of Ginny's demise though.

He took a deep breathe, and the sedation in his system changed into panic and nausea. Harry was tired, exhausted with no energy left to do anything. He wanted to puke, his breathe shorted again, his heart slowly down, softening. This was not the same as before, this was acceptance of loss and the inability to do anything. He wanted to be mad, but could he? Could he be mad at Ginny when this beast was in control.

"You were mine Harry, and you will be again." Well that answered his question.

"You won't try to save me, Ginny." He replied, his voice tired and weak. "you just want to hurt me, or leave me desperate." He started to sit up and ignored the look of dissonance.

She reached from but he pulled away. "But I bet you laugh at the thought of me thinking for myself, that you know best." Ginny didn't move, her eyes glared at him, glazed and heavy. "I bet you believe that I'm better off with you than someone else."

"Because you are Harry, there is no one else for you or me. We are meant to be together." She was pleading, begging to be with him, her life depended on it. But did it? Who was in control? The beast's desire to live or the girl and her obsession?

"I am no one's property."

"but you will be." She looked up at him again, and the evil that burned within, the fiendish desire and lust for power and control glistened behind screaming eyes. Everyone has their addictions, Ginny just found hers early. Control was important to the youngest Weasley, as she had nothing she really could control, why not a potential boyfriend, because that makes perfect sense. Harry saw the potion, the vial, in her hand, she kept on shifting back on forth.

Her face arrives again, a hope he had became surreal, but under her cover was more torture than pleasure, and just past her lips more anger than laughter, not now or forever could he ever change her. It was time to move on, break his habit.

"this potion is the only version of the love potion that works through contact, Harry," he didn't move. He didn't think he could move at the moment. "I've had it since Snape left, stolen from him, I didn't think a dead man needed it."

Harry shifted again, trying to sit up to press the call button. Ginny noticed and pushed him back down. His body fell like a limp doll. He had no energy, not even access to what ever demonic powers he had, even if he had any. He couldn't figure out whether or not she killed Snape or how she had the chance to, or even if this conversation was occurring, which was probably the morphine kicking in.

"One drop would make you mine, but only for a little bit, contact isn't enough, which is why I injected it into your... your... whatever that stuff is." She pointed at his blood dripping down slowly into him, and Harry tries not to look terrified. The slowness and everything that he's been feeling, thats the potion.

"You taught my heart ... a sense I never knew... ... I had, and I can't forget... the time... I was lost and ... depressed ... from the awful truth.... And I thank you for it." he couldn't stop the potion. He didn't know how to counteract it, all the variants and everything. And even if he did, he didn't think that it would work. He couldn't do what he did before. Energy takes time to acquire and charge up, it requires sleep, something Harry was greatly lacking. So Harry did the one thing he knew how to do well: stop his heart.

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