Disclaimer: Canon Harry Potter is not mine, unfortunately. If it was Deathly Hallows would have turned out the way I wanted ;)
A/N: As usual that you so much to LydiaCarol for improving this chapter and saving you all from reading one full of silly mistakes.
I apologize for taking so long to update. The new book sort of took over my life since it came out; I got caught up in reading and then talking about the book that I really wasn't focused on writing. I promise that the next chapter will be posted fairly soon!
Chapter 7 - And I Love Him
Hermione sat curled up in a chair near the fireplace reading a book, House Elves: Serving Wizards across the Centuries. She had never given up her fight for what she felt were mistreated, magical creatures of the wizarding community. It was a stormy night and she enjoyed the sound of rain falling against her window. It gave her a serene feeling, and she was enjoying her much-needed night of peace. A soft knock on her door startled her. She put her quill, which she had been using to make notes in the margins, between the pages to mark her place.
She padded with sock-clad feet across the floor to the front door, half-expecting it to be Harry come to see her. After confronting Ginny and Ron the other day, he'd taken her home, but they really hadn't said much. She had been hoping for more, even an `I still love you'', but nothing. It had upset her at the moment, but she told herself, he'd probably wanted to give her and himself some time to think about everything before broaching the topic of where they stood. Her heart gave a little thump as she gripped the door handle. Nervously she unlocked and open the door. It was Ron. She frowned at him, her expression changing from nervousness to annoyance.
"Ron, I really don't want to see you tonight or anytime soon. Please just give me some peace," she told him, trying not to loose her temper. She put her fingers to her temple and pressed them along the side of her forehead, feeling a headache forming.
"Hermione, this is really important or else I would have respected your wishes and left you alone," he told her weakly. She noticed as she spoke that he looked rather ill and, well, as though he had been crying. He stepped further into the light from her home spilling out through the doorway, and she gasped at his altered appearance.
"You're scaring me, Ronald. What's going on? Has anything happened to someone in your family?" she asked quietly, her stomach beginning to twist and churn in apprehension.
Ron bit his lip, his face suffused in anguish. "No, Hermione, it's…" His voice cracked and he paused a moment to gather his emotions. She saw the knuckles of his hand clutching the doorframe go white as he gripped it harder for a moment. "It's Harry. He's been attacked by a group of former Death Eaters. It's not good. He's been working with Aurors to help track down all of Vol-voldemorts followers, and he and a few others were badly injured," he finished, biting his lip, clearly struggling to stay in control of his emotions.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked dully, feeling suddenly numb, the reality too awful to be fully comprehended at first. This had to be some horrible nightmare, or a hurtful lie on Ron's part. She clutched the doorframe as her knees threatened to buckle underneath her. Ron moved closer and offered her a steadying hand. She shook him away. "Please tell me that this isn't real," she pleaded. Her expression was one of utter anguish. Ron shook his head sadly, wishing he could tell her that it wasn't.
"Hermione, I know this is really hard, but you have to believe me. You have to be strong. I know you probably don't want to be around me any longer than you have to, so I asked my parents to come along and bring you to St. Mungo's, where they'll be bringing Harry shortly. We can't Floo or use a Portkey, as security is really tight right now. The Ministry is afraid that other people are going to be attacked, and someone like you, close to Harry would be high on a Death Eater's priorities. We have a well-protected Ministry car," he told her slowly. He wrung his hands together uncomfortably; his face was still very pale. His eyes blinked rapidly as he watched her and waited for a response. Hermione stood in the doorway still, her expression now a mixture of fear and pain.
"So, Harry is still alive, Ron?" she whispered, a lone tear escaping her burning eyes and slowly falling down her cheek.
"Yeah, he is," he replied simply.
"We-we…have to go see him then, now, please," she insisted in a quivering voice.
He took a hold of her arm and this time she didn't resist his help. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were standing out in front by a car as promised, holding a large umbrella over their heads to shield them from the heavy rain that was still falling. The storm, which had seemed so pleasant before, now only served to add to the dark feel of the night. Hermione could immediately see that Mrs. Weasley had clearly been crying for quite a while, her cheeks splotchy and her nose red. Ron's father looked far more composed, but seemed just as upset as his wife in his own quiet fashion.
"Hello, Hermione," Mr. Weasley greeted her politely, his tone somber. She attempted to force the muscles in her face to form a weak smile. With Harry's life in peril, she didn't feel like smiling again anytime soon. She took his proffered arm and sat down in the car. The Weasleys all climbed in, quickly closing all the car doors. Mrs. Weasley sat in the back next to her, sniffling rather loudly and occasionally glancing over at her sadly and patting her hand. Hermione briefly wondered if Ron's parents knew what their children had done.
"Hermione, I want to let you know that we informed the staff at St. Mungo's that we're coming and that you are to be the first to see Harry after they're done treating him," Mr.Weasley informed, looking back at her in the rearview mirror. "Right now, they are still at the scene of the attack, and Harry may still be, though I hope they have gotten the poor boy to St. Mungo's by now." Hermione's eyes widened.
"We have to go there first, the site of the attack I mean!" she demanded. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged worried glances.
"I really don't think that's wise, Hermione dear. Even if they let us near, there's no way you'll be able to get within a few feet of Harry," Mrs. Weasley explained weakly. "We came as soon as Arthur was told about the attack. Harry is surely at the hospital by now."
"No, he's not. I know it," Hermione told them, completely certain that she was right about this.
"Just take her there," Ron told his father firmly, not looking back at Hermione. Mr. Weasley opened his mouth, about to argue the subject, but another look from Ron and he stayed silent.
"All right then, Hermione. I must warn you: this isn't going to be easy to deal with. They didn't give me much, but from what I have been told, Harry really is in bad shape," Mr.Weasley informed her.
"But Arthur!" cried Mrs. Weasley, clearly not convinced that telling all of this to Hermione was a good idea at all.
"Molly, please. It's Hermione's decision. It's the least we can do for her after how badly she's been hurt by our family," Arthur rebuked her, his tone somber. His wife sniffled slightly and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief, but said nothing more on the subject. Ron looked down at his hands, which were folded in his lap.
Hermione leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, trying to mentally prepare herself for what was ahead of her. Whatever happened tonight Harry wasn't going to die. He couldn't die just now; especially not after all he'd been through in his short life span.
The car finally pulled up to a rather empty, un-cared for field between small forests of trees. Hermione could see many official-looking wizards running all around.
"Thank you, thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," she said quickly as she out of the car before anyone could stop her. Hermione scanned the field as a soft rain still fell. A couple of wizards walked past with another wizard floating on a stretcher between them, but it wasn't Harry. She made a strangled noise of disappointment and frustration, as she scanned the faces around her. In the distance she saw a group of wizards kneeling on the ground. It was Harry, she knew it.
Hermione ran towards where she saw Harry prone on the ground bearing the signs of a battle that had taken place not long before. The wet earth was marked with the traces of errant spells and curses, some of which had been intended to hit Harry. Her throat was chocked by a sob. She felt as though she was making no progress, her feet catching in the mud as she neared Harry. It felt very much like being in an awful dream, but this reality was something she felt even her wildest imagings couldn't produce. Her best friend could be dead, and she had never worked things out with him. She'd been fooled, had let herself be manipulated into doubting him and hurting him. And now he could be dying without knowing that she loved him, loved him more than she knew was possible.
Ron and his parents ran after her, trying futilely to catch up with her. They knew she was not her rational self or even remotely close to being calm. The other Aurors and Ministry officials on the scene probably wouldn't appreciate any kind of unneeded commotion, especially if it hindered helping the victims of the attack. Ron stopped for a moment, a realization hitting him solidly in the chest with the staggering impact of a punch. Hermione loves Harry; she's always loved Harry. It had been useless to try to get her to love him through lies and deceit. They had cost him the girl he loved, as well as her friendship and Harry's. Ron stood and watched her run towards Harry, away from him, knowing she was doing so in more ways than one.
Hermione pushed away the crowd of people gathered around Harry without a second thought, ignoring their angry protests.
"Who do you think you are, young lady?!?" one man objected angrily.
Hermione knelt down next to Harry; she tenderly brushed strands of damp raven hair from his pallid face. The hazy moonlight cast an unnatural glow on the scene of destruction and death around them. His face was covered in small cuts and bruises. His body was stained with blood elsewhere, but it was hard to tell the extent of his injuries. One wound looked very much like the spell she'd been hit with in the Department of Mysteries years ago, and she hoped very much that it wasn't- it had nearly killed her.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione whimpered, her voice breaking. With a trembling hand she gently felt for a pulse, and the slight flutter of life under her fingertips gave her hope.
She tenderly put his head in her lap, carefully stroking his unruly hair. Hermione talked to him quietly. She knew she must seem mental to everyone else witnessing the scene, but she couldn't have cared less. She felt that if Harry could hear the voice of someone he'd known for so many years, it might give him the motivation to hang on.
"Harry, why do you always have to get yourself hurt? Poor Madam Pompfrey probably never healed any student more than she did you at Hogwarts," she whispered. Thoughts of their days at Hogwarts caused her tears to flow even faster.
"Oh, Harry," she sobbed, "I should have told you so long ago how much I love you. You were a friend to me when no one else was, and I always loved you and I still do."
She felt hot tears fall from her eyes and down her cheeks. As she bent over Harry, a few of them dropped onto his upturned face. His eyelids fluttered weakly. Hermione held her breath, as she saw them slowly open. Never had she been so happy to see that pair of emerald eyes looking at her.
"Harry!" she breathed.
"Potter's alive!" she heard a man nearby yell. A group of wizards came rushing over, and she felt someone take hold of her arm, pulling her away from Harry. She turned to see it was Mr. Weasley.
"Please let me go, I need to be with him," she demanded, fiercely trying to escape his grasp.
"Dear, I know it's hard, but you have to let them take him to St. Mungo's now that they're sure that he's alive. If you delay them, it could put Harry's life further in danger. I promise you that the moment they finish treating him, you will be the first to know," he assured her calmly. Hermione stopped struggling and watched them take Harry away. Soon he was out of sight. Mr. Weasley kept his grasp on her arm and walked her back over to the car. She sat quietly back in the car, where Ron and his mum were sitting. Ron looked as though he'd just been ill and Mrs. Weasley didn't look much better. She was crying softly, and every other minute blew her nose loudly.
"We'll just be off to St. Mungo's then," Mr. Weasley announced. Hermione stared straight ahead at the back of his head as they drove to the hospital. She was overwhelmed by the pain she was feeling at the moment. Her insides ached with pure agony, and her head hurt from crying so hard moments before. She felt herself wishing for that numb feeling again, the way she'd felt when she'd first heard the news.
Upon reaching St. Mungo's all four of them quickly piled out of the car. They stood in front of the familiar window display of rather ugly mannequins. "We're here to see Harry Potter," Mr. Weasley announced loudly to the one in front of him. Hermione followed behind as he stepped through the glass window.
She stood in the reception area with Mrs. Weasley and Ron, as Mr. Weasley went up the front desk to ask for the floor to which Harry had been assigned.
"Follow me," he instructed them as they waited for a lift to the fourth floor.
"Harry has already been assigned a room. I was told that we would be allowed to wait outside the door for him, until the Healers had an update on his status for us," he explained as the lift doors opened.
Hermione nodded weakly in response. Time had never passed more slowly than it did as they stood outside Harry's room. Finally an older woman in bright green robes approached them. Her expression was unreadable.
"Hermione Granger?" she asked, scanning the group of people standing in the hall.
"Yes?" Hermione managed. She clasped her violently trembling hands together.
"Mr. Potter was badly hurt tonight; in fact it's a miracle he is still with us. We have done all we can to aid in his healing process, but the rest is up to him and his body. I don't want to give you false hopes, but if he makes it through the next few nights, he should make a full recovery. Right now he's in a magically induced coma, but he should wake up from it within the hour," the woman explained kindly, looking down at her notes from time to time as she spoke.
"Thank you, thank you so much!" Hermione told her, beaming at the Healer.
"You may go in to see him now," the Healer added as she walked away, off to care for another patient.
Ron felt sick with guilt from what he had heard just how close Harry still was to death.
"Hermione, I - " he began, but stop as he met her cold stare. Perhaps now wasn't the best time to tell her how sorry he was once again.
Hermione moved to open the door and felt herself freeze as her hand touched the handle. She had seen Harry already, so she wasn't going to be shocked by his condition, but she had to stop for a moment to gather herself. Seeing him lying there in the bed, looking deathlike, would be difficult. Finally she twisted the knob and went in. None of the Weasleys said a word; they stood respectfully out in the hall, giving Hermione time alone with Harry at first.
Her hand flew to her chest as a sob caught in her throat. Harry was in awful shape and yet he had never looked more handsome to her than he did at that moment. She walked slowly over to the side of the bed and knelt down next to him. Her shaking, slim-fingered hand reached out to touch his. She pressed his cold hand to her face, as tears began to fall once again.
"Oh, Harry," she breathed.
She got up from her knees and sat down on the bed. Carefully she rested her head against his chest for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It was the most beautiful sound in the world.
"Harry, I love you so much. I wish you knew. I wish that I hadn't put off telling you, and I wish that I could be sure that you still love me. But most of all, I just want you to live," she whispered in his ear, her eyelashes fluttering against his face.
Hermione sat at the edge of his bed, watching his sleeping face intently, and waiting for the moment when his eyes would open. She would sit there all night if she had to. The Weasleys popped in for a quick moment, but left sensing it would be best to visit when Harry was more stable.
It was getting late and Hermione felt her eyelids getting heavy. She was emotionally and physically exhausted, but she wouldn't let sleep take her. Suddenly she felt Harry's hand squeeze hers, which she still had intertwined with his. She jumped. H was to full consciousness, looking up at her.
"Oh, Harry! You're awake!" she said, beaming at him. She resisted the urge to hug him tightly, too afraid of hurting him.
Harry blinked slowly and smiled weakly up her.
"I knew you'd be here," he whispered, his eyes glowing. "You've always been there."
Hermione smiled and cried tears of joy. "Oh, Harry," she sighed and kissed him on the forehead.
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