CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A/N - Not much to say here, but please leave a review.
Even after about four hours, the nervous, restless tension in the hospital wing's waiting room was unbearable. Hermione had spent much of the time either crying into Ron's shoulder or wearing a look of fear the likes of which no one had ever seen from her before. Ron had been quiet the whole time, more the rock that Hermione needed him to be at that moment, but deep inside one could sense that he was barely keeping it together. Luna sat on his other side, squeezing his free hand periodically. Neville, Dean and Seamus had stayed for around two hours, before going back to gather some things from the dorm. Hagrid had never left, standing stoically at the doorway, only wiping away the stray errant tear. Sarah Campbell sat off to one side, hugging her knees up to her body. She looked so frightened and upset, yet also so helpless and alone.
Professor McGonagall was the only non-medical staff that had been inside the hospital wing during the whole of whatever life-saving procedures had been attempted during this whole time. Several Healers had been rushed in from the Ministry, including one that Sarah had seemed to recognise, who spoke in a thick American accent. He was an elderly man, around sixty, with a mostly bald head and a neatly-trimmed white beard, portly build and a crutch supporting his amputated left leg, replaced with a metal prosthesis that looked like it was held together by some form of magic.
No one had dared speak; it was as if doing so would somehow jinx what was going on through those curtained-off doors. Only Hermione's occasional sobs broke the tomb-like silence.
How could that duel have been allowed to happen? It was the question on everyone's minds. Anyone who had spent much time with Harry or David, especially both of them, knew that friction had been building up between them and may come to a head, but the way in which it exploded had taken everyone by surprise, to put it mildly. Now, with the Chosen One and one of the Ministry's most capable young Aurors fighting for their lives, how much stronger had Voldemort's hand just become?
"I know I coulda done somethin'," Hagrid mumbled, "If I'd had me wits abou' me, I'd a put a stop to it."
"Don't blame yourself, Hagrid," Ron said, "We all should've seen this coming."
Hermione raised her head from Ron's shoulder; her face was reddened and blotchy, smeared with tears, "I…" She began unsteadily, "If I hadn't got myself hurt, this whole thing would have never…" Hermione's voice broke as she choked back another sob.
"Hey," Ron said gently, hugging her face to his shoulder, "C'mon Hermione, don't. You did nothing wrong here. None of us did, we just…we just didn't know how far they'd go."
"What happened, anyway?" Luna asked, "I'd never seen anything like it…"
"I have," Sarah said quietly, in a mournful tone of voice, speaking for the first time, "It's rare, but…when two wizards of equal power throw the same spell, they can cancel each other out. But…on rare occasions…the opposite can happen."
"You mean, the spells build up and up to try and overpower each other?" Luna asked, interested all of a sudden.
"Kind of…but…" Sarah sniffed, wiping a tear away. Ron gave Luna a sharp look, and she backed off into silence once more.
At that time, the hospital wing doors opened.
Professor McGonagall emerged, followed by Madam Pomfrey and the unknown, American healer.
With all eyes on the professor, she cleared her throat uneasily, "The Healers have managed to stabilise their conditions."
Some breathed a sigh of relief, others held their breath, hanging onto the grim tone that Professor McGonagall used. After a slight pause, she continued, "However, to prevent irrevocable brain damage, they have had to magically induce comas upon Mr. Potter and Mr. Adams, until their conditions improve enough."
She turned to face the American, "This is Albert Rawlings from the Salem Institute, he'll be more readily able to answer your questions. Madam Pomfrey will continue to check on their progress at regular intervals. When there is a development, you will be informed immediately."
Professor McGonagall turned and left, her stern and serious demeanour beginning to strain as emotion began to show. Madam Pomfrey returned to the hospital wing, closing the doors behind her.
"I know this is all hard to take right now," Rawlings began, in a sympathetic tone, "But in the long run, this is the best way that we know of to ensure a full recovery."
"And they will? Recover, I mean?" Ron asked.
Rawlings ran a hand over his balding head in thought, "I see no reason why not. The skeletal and muscular damage was repaired immediately, but even magical medicine is limited in regards to the brain and the central nervous system. So much of it still remains a mystery to us."
"So…they could still die?" Sarah asked, painfully.
The American Healer shook his head, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Chances are that it will be days before it's safe enough to attempt a revival. Until then, they're both simply asleep, and perfectly safe in the care of your medical staff."
"Well, we appreciat' all ye've done for `em," Hagrid said, as sincerely as he could manage.
Rawlings nodded, "Don't mention it. Now, I need to send a report to Salem as soon as possible. Would you be able to show me the nearest fireplace?"
"Sure thin', c'mon," Hagrid motioned, leading the Healer out, throwing one last sympathetic glance at Ron, Hermione and the others before he left.
Hermione had been strangely quiet that whole time. Ron looked down at her quizzically, "Are you alright? I thought you'd have a bunch of questions for…"
"Knock it off, Ron," Hermione said bluntly.
"I'm just trying to help," Ron said quietly.
Hermione released a deep breath, "I know, I just…I don't know what I feel right now." She freed herself from Ron's embrace and stood up, "I need some fresh air." She glanced across at Sarah, and then turned and walked out.
"Well…," Ron said, visibly a little shaken, "I'll go check on Nev and the others. They seem to be taking their sweet time…" He got up and walked off.
Luna got up and moved over to Sarah, sitting down next to her. She took her hand in her own and tried to give her a comforting smile, "Are you going to be okay?"
Sarah's brown eyes, usually so bright and full of life, were dull and worn, staring down at the floor unfocused, "Better than they will be."
Luna put an arm around her, not knowing who Sarah was referring to; Harry and David, or Ron and Hermione?
* * * * *
That night, at around eleven, Hermione had returned to the hospital wing, alone. She had waited for Ron and the other Gryffindors, as care-worn as they all were, to go to sleep before making her move. When Madam Pomfrey saw that she was alone, she finally relented to the sad look on Hermione's face and allowed her inside. Hermione braced herself mentally, and stepped in.
As the matron moved away toward her office, Hermione found the ward darkened, illuminated only by the sparsely-numbered candles atop the window-sills. Her own footsteps upon the stone floor echoed, providing the only sound in an otherwise peaceful room. Somehow, she drew comfort from these surroundings.
She passed David first, partitioned off from the beds to either side by curtains. The candles cast a strange shadow across part of his face, but Hermione could make out the heavy bruising, the bandages. Yet under it all, he seemed calm, at peace as he slept, breathing deeply in and out, the bed-sheet covering what was surely a mass of bandages and splints attached to his body.
Hermione paused for a moment, considering this relatively new face in her life. As a former Gryffindor, and a truly accomplished Auror, Hermione had believed she, along with Harry and Ron, had found a member of the outside magical world that truly understood them, that had been through what they had. But this duel, this continual undercurrent of tension between him and Harry had made her question that. Of course, she wished him a full recovery, and had fretted upon his death a little, but nowhere near to the extent that she cared for her best friend. Maybe it was merely the fact that she didn't know him that well, or that she didn't want to know him that well. Her own life experiences had made her unique; maybe there really was no one who could understand her.
No, that's not true.
One of them was back in the Gryffindor dorm, probably tossing and turning, unable to sleep. And the other one…
Oh, Merlin…
Hermione had to cover her mouth as she caught sight of Harry's bed. The top of his head, and much of his unruly dark hair, was covered in thick bandaging, no doubt holding together the repairs made to his skull. In this darkness, the bruises to his face, forearms and hands were much more apparent. Hermione fought so hard to keep from breaking down and crying, for the umpteenth time that day. Using all of her willpower, she edged herself closer to the chair beside Harry's bed, and sat down uneasily. He appeared to be sound asleep, as David was, wearing a thick cotton nightshirt underneath the bed-sheet.
Hermione fidgeted with her hands, unsure of what to do. She was totally out of her element here…no amount of research could prepare for dealing with this kind of grief. Hermione forced herself to look upon Harry, and to trust that whatever she needed to say or do to just happen.
"I…" Hermione began quietly, "I never know what to do in times like this, you know?" She cleared her throat, "I've lost relatives before, did I tell you? Grandparents, great-grandparents, mostly elderly. They were important to me, even when I was little. I knew what was going to happen, I understood the significance of it…I just couldn't find the words to say. I couldn't express everything that I wanted to. I guess it was then that I realised…how hollow words can sound sometimes."
Hermione found herself regaining some small measure of calm, in trying to talk her way through this, to talk to Harry. It was what felt natural to her, "I know that what happened today was caused by more than just words, Harry. I guess it's redundant for me to say so now, but I'm fine. It was just an extreme version of the Full-Body Bind. I can take it, Harry; I'm a big girl. I know you were only looking out for me, and standing up for me, but…"
Hermione caught herself mid-sentence, and she blushed, "Listen to me; even when you're laying there, in deep sleep, I'm nagging. Maybe that's just me being me, huh? Plain little Hermione, the bookworm, Harry and Ron's bossy big sister…I know that's what people see and think of me. To be honest, mostly I can accept that. But I can't today. Not when…something like this happens."
She shifted forwards in her seat, closer to the bed, "I told Ron earlier that I didn't know what I feel. Only I was lying; I do. I guess in some ways, I always have. Moments like this can…bring into sharp focus these things about our lives. I just can't kid myself anymore, Harry."
She paused, wiping away a tear from each eye, swallowed down the sobs, and continued, "I wish…I wish for so many things. Happiness, success, accomplishment…but then there's the other side of me; the girl. I wish I could be one of those normal girls. The ones who can fall in love and be in relationships and…just be that happy. I know what you may be thinking…but you're wrong. Ron was…he was a comfort blanket, a way of telling myself that I could be `normal'. I love him like a brother, but it couldn't go any further then that."
Hermione stood up, leaning down over Harry's sleeping form, "I know deep down that no one I could ever meet would ever come close to you, Harry. I've never met anyone so brave, so compassionate, so loyal. You, for all the money and fame and power, who wants nothing more than a normal life, and a family you can love."
Her voice quietened to a whisper, "Don't you dare leave us behind, Harry…don't leave me behind. Don't use this as your way out."
She cleared her throat once more, wiping away the tears, "I know you can hear me, Harry…I love you."
Hermione gently leaned over, and planted a kiss on Harry's forehead. The tears finally took over, and she collapsed onto his chest, sobbing uncontrollably into the night.
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