Terrible, fiery pain seared through his body. Everywhere was hurting, aching, especially his head, which gave a painful throb in time with his heartbeat. He could feel that his glasses were missing, and that a large bandage was wrapped, turban-like, around his head.
"I- I'm afraid… I don't think he'll make it," whispered Madame Pomfrey's voice tearfully, from somewhere to his left. Harry opened an eye. The light burned his retina, and his vision was blurred. However, he could see that he was in a hospital bed, with the screen drawn around his bed. Beyond the white curtain Harry could hear the sounds of several people gasping in horror, and someone shrieked. There was a scuffle of feet and the curtain rustled a little.
"Granger, control yourself!" Snape's voice was harsh, and the curtain stopped moving.
"No… Harry…Harry…" Hermione's words became too muffled to understand, and she began moaning like a wounded animal.
Harry tried to get up, but he found that the slightest movement caused him pain. Ignoring it as best as he could, he rolled over slightly, wincing, and moved the screen a fraction, so he had created a spy hole for himself.
Mostly, the people around him were sitting in shocked silence, tears of grief flowing down their faces. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were hugging each other tightly, silently crying. Snape was standing in the shadows, the emotion on his pallid face unreadable. Ginny was staring at the bed in blind shock, tears starting to leak from her eyes too. Malfoy was sat in the corner, an odd expression on his face, eyes occasionally flicking to Ginny. Ron, whose skull was wrapped in an eye patch, was hunched over, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking, while Luna gawped at Madame Pomfrey as though she couldn't believe what she'd said. Tonks was also staring at her, mortified, while Remus was restraining Hermione.
"I don't believe it," he whispered hoarsely, "Harry… dead?"
"No!" wailed Hermione, sobbing onto Remus's shoulder. Harry didn't understand. Why did they think he was dead? He'd just woken up.
"He can't be dead… not after what he's gone through…"
Snape turned around slowly. "Are you sure he won't wake up?"
"Well I- I checked him, and he wasn't breathing, and his heart wasn't b- beating!" Madame Pomfrey choked out, before bursting into tears.
Harry frowned as he listened to them, closing his weary eyes. Madame Pomfrey must have checked him just before he woke up. Nobody seemed to be moving, and all Harry could hear was Hermione's and Madame Pomfrey's snivelled sobs.
"This- This shouldn't have happened," said Remus, seeming to struggle with his words.
"It wasn't fair!" Ron spat.
Hermione's wailing grew louder, and there was a shuffle of robes. Harry opened one eye blearily, to see Snape awkwardly stretching a hand out to pat her on the back, his long, thin fingers barely touching her back.
"Potter died," said Snape quietly and slowly, "doing what he had to do. He defeated the Dark Lord, and it drained him of his magic, resulting in this terrible accident, but he defeated him. Now… I'll admit I didn't know him that well, but… he accomplished his mission. He would have been proud to die having rid the world of such an evil, surely?"
"He deserved a better life!" Ron yelled. "He deserved more!"
Snape's coal black eyes roamed over to Ron, his face not yet betraying any emotion. "Everyone who dies in such a way deserves more," he almost whispered. Harry's other eye snapped open. What was Snape really thinking about? "I am going now to tell the others of this… terrible tragedy."
"I don't think you want to do that, Professor," said Harry groggily, his voice sounding gravely in his throat. There was another loud gasp, and everyone's head snapped to him. Summoning the little bit of energy he had, Harry sat up.
There was a long pause, where the people surrounding him gawked at him, mouths hanging on the ground, until there was a loud, shrill shriek from Hermione and a roar of triumph from Ron, and Harry's vision was obscured by a mass of bushy brown hair.
"Harry!" cried several voices, and everyone crowded around his bed, trying to peer at him through Hermione's hair.
"Potter! You're alive?!" Snape spluttered.
Harry winced as Hermione hugged him even tighter, crushing his already delicate ribs. "Looks like it."
"Mate!" Ron roared, shaking Harry by the shoulders, "You did it!" and with that he clamped a muscular, freckled arm around Harry's neck and ruffled his hair.
"Oh Harry, dear! Ron, don't do that, you'll hurt him!"
"Yes, you must get off him; he's just awakened from a coma!" Harry, who was being suffocated by his two best friends, was very thankful for Mrs. Weasley's and Madame Pomfrey's cries. Reluctantly, Ron and Hermione dragged themselves away from him.
"Oh Harry! You did it! You beat him!" Ginny shrieked.
"Harry! That was amazing!" Remus breathed.
"How on earth did you do it, Harry?" gasped Luna.
"Oh, Harry, thank goodness you're ok!" cried Tonks.
Harry's head was beginning to hurt, but the stream of chatter from his visitors was cut short by Snape.
"Stand back," he spat, "give the boy some air." He peered at Harry, his black eyes narrowed in confusion.
"Oh, this is wonderful!" said Mr. Weasley ecstatically, "Harry alive and You-Know-Who gone-"
"You're right, Arthur," said Remus quietly, "this is wonderful." His head snapped over to Tonks, and he looked slightly nervous. "Dora, I- I said I'd wait until the war was over, and now it is…" He got down on one knee, and Mrs. Weasley and Tonks let out matching squeals of delight. "Dora, will you marry me?"
"Of course I will, you old duffer!" she cried and flung herself on top of him, earning a sneer from Snape and catcalls from almost everyone else.
"You'll be best man?" Remus asked Harry happily, his face beaming brilliantly.
"Yeah- yeah, of course I will!" Harry replied, shocked.
"Oh, congratulations, you two!" cried Ginny, hugging them both.
"All this calls for a party!" cried Mrs. Weasley, also hugging them.
Harry felt very happy for Remus and Tonks, but now his head was really starting to hurt, and Madame Pomfrey seemed to realise this, as she suddenly began ushering everyone out. He smiled at everyone as they passed, but as he caught Hermione's eyes, he saw that she was close to tears. The corner of her mouth twitched, a failed smile, and she quickly averted his eyes, as though scared it would hurt her to look at him for too long.
Harry was about to call her back, but she darted outside, and Harry saw a tear snap to her eye.
*
It was about two weeks before Harry was allowed from the hospital ward, and even then Madame Pomfrey hadn't let him go without a fight. But he had eventually managed to convince her he was healthy enough to go out.
Of course, he had had about a million visitors a day and his bedside table had been overflowing with "get well soon" and "thank you for saving the Wizarding World" cards. Ron had visited every day, which Harry was pleased about, but one person who hadn't visited was Hermione. Sure, he had caught sight of a pair of chocolate brown eyes peering at him through the window, but why had Hermione never come in to talk to him? They could have worked something out.
Even now that he was out of the hospital ward, Hermione seemed to be avoiding him. He had tried to corner her numerous times, but she always scampered away, muttering some nonsense about decorations for the wedding and never making eye contact. Harry was growing increasingly frustrated. Why wouldn't she let him just talk to her?
"Hermione." Harry had snuck up on her while she was reading in the Hogwarts Library, and gently placed his hands on her shoulders so she couldn't get away. He felt her tense beneath his fingers. "Hermione, why have you been avoiding me?"
"Not been avoiding you," Hermione muttered, glaring down at her page stubbornly and flushing red.
"Yes, you have! Look," Harry sat down besides her, grasping her wrist, "if this is about when we were at the stairs of the Astronomy Tower-"
Hermione stood up so violently Harry had to let go.
"No! Don't run away! Please!" He gave her a pleading look, which she caught out of the corner of her eye. His eyes captured hers, and she froze, looking torn between wanting to get away from him and wanting to kiss him again. She opened her mouth to speak…
"Hermione, Tonks wants you to come and have your bridesmaid's dress fitted!" Ginny hollered, appearing at the Library door.
As much as he loved them, Harry decided Weasleys had the worst timing in the world.
"Yes," Hermione whispered, wrenching her eyes from Harry. "Yes, I'm coming." And she stalked out the door without a backwards glance. Harry slumped down on the table in disappointment, his head thumping on the cold, hard wood.
Ginny had just turned to leave, when she noticed Harry's slumping action. "Are things ok between you two?" she said quietly. "I haven't seen you talking in ages."
"No, Ginny, they are not ok," Harry muttered, his voice muffled against the table top.
"What happened?" she said quietly, "did something happen the night when you duelled You- Know- Who?"
"Look, I don't really want to talk about it." He took his head off the table and straightened his glasses. He searched for something to change the topic. "So, how's Malfoy planning to explain to his parents that he's dating you? His Mom looked about ready to rip your arms off when she saw you two kissing."
Ginny smiled grimly. "Well, I was never expecting them to be jumping for joy-"
"Are you talking about my parents?" As though he had materialised from the shadows, Malfoy slid through the door, his cool grey eyes resting on Ginny. He glared at them suspiciously.
Ginny smiled at him, and his defensive exterior faded. "We were just discussing how your parents reacted when they found out."
"Oh, that." Malfoy winced and absentmindedly rubbed his ear, as if in memory of being yelled at.
Ginny sighed. "Well, at least we've got telling my family to look forward to."
"That should be fun," Malfoy muttered.
"Yeah. They're gonna be even worse."
"Worse than my parents? I think not."
"Oh, they will be, trust me. They're probably going to murder me."
"Yeah, but no way are they worse than my parents. No- one can yell louder than my Father, trust me."
"Yes, but I have six overprotective brothers…"
Shaking his head, Harry slipped out unnoticed, leaving them to their squabble. He wandered out to the grounds, where the marquee was being set up. The wedding was taking place on the castle grounds, and due to the merriment Voldemort's downfall had caused, no-one had the heart to disagree. For the past few days there had been nothing but bright sunshine, which gave everyone high hopes for good weather on the wedding day.
Harry trudged down the stone steps, to where people were fumbling around, trying to construct the tent. He spotted at head of long dirty-blonde hair, and plodded over.
"Hey Luna… oh." Luna had just pinned a large poppy to the front of his shirt. "Umm… thanks."
"No problem," answered Luna dreamily. "It's for remembrance of the war. I heard muggles do it." Harry stared at the poppies on her shirt. There were several. "Oh, I didn't think it was fair if I just had one. I mean, lots of people gave their lives, didn't they?"
Harry looked at his poppy guiltily. His mind had been so clouded over what to do about Hermione he hadn't given much thought to the dead.
"Harry, why do you look so sad?" said Luna concernedly. "They died hero's deaths, fighting for what they believed in. I'm sure they'd have been proud."
Harry smiled sadly.
"And… is there something else, Harry?" Luna examined him with her misty blue eyes.
"Well… it's Hermione. See… she told me something very important, and I didn't react the way she'd hoped- but I do feel the same, I just- I was shocked and… urgh, it's complicated. Look, I didn't do something I should have, and now she's not speaking to me." Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just don't get it. Why won't she let me explain? Why didn't she say anything earlier? What's been going through her head?"
Luna sighed, and then took a deep breath: "Well, she thinks that she's ruined your friendship with her because it'll be to embarrassing for you both to know what she's told you, and even if you manage to pretend it never happened, she won't be able to cope with the fact that you don't feel the same way. So she's very upset about all that. But she's kind of glad that she got it off her chest, as well as the fact that it was your motivation for killing Voldemort. She didn't say anything earlier because she was confused, because for years she's alternated between fancying Ron and then fancying you and then thinking of you both in a strictly platonic way, and then when she finally made a move on Ron she realised it's you she wants, and she felt guilty because she still really liked Ron and didn't want to hurt his feelings, but she knew it was you she loved. Then she felt like a traitor because she knew Ginny liked you, and then when you and Ginny broke up and she and Ron broke up she thought she'd leave it anyway because she didn't think you could possibly like her, and she was also afraid of what Ron and Ginny would say. She also doesn't know what to feel about Ron, because she thinks he might still like her, but she doesn't love him the same way she loves you, and she doesn't want to lose him either. So there's a lot of heartache there. Oh, and she's also upset because she thinks none of this is logical and she doesn't like things that aren't logical."
Harry stood in stunned silence, blinking a few times, before; "How do you guys do that? Is it just you and Hermione, or do all girls have that- that special mind reading power?"
Luna smiled. "No special power. Just a little bit of empathy," she said, a little bit superiorly.
"But- but that's confusing…" Harry felt slightly dizzy.
"It is, isn't it?" said Luna, looking just as dazed, even though she was the one who'd said it. "She has too many feelings. I hope she doesn't explode. Perhaps you should talk to her; then she wouldn't be so depressed."
Harry watched as Luna floated off, feeling she'd missed the point.
*
The wedding was drawing nearer, but in the hustle and bustle still no-one had forgot to celebrate the liberation of the wizarding world. So, a few days before the wedding, a party was held in the Great Hall.
It was possibly the biggest event Harry had ever been to. The Hall was magnificently decorated, with streamers and banners slithering through the air, music so loud it could have been heard for miles and the promise of a massive firework display, courtesy of Fred and George (it was raining outside, but nobody seemed to care). The house-elves had really outdone themselves with the food, much to Ron's delight, and it seemed almost everyone in the Order were there. Harry was being treated like a king, with all sorts of strangers coming to shake his hand and express their deepest gratitude, but he wasn't really paying attention.
This was the perfect time to try and corner Hermione again. He had hoped that in the noise and chatter she wouldn't notice him, but she was being exceptionally perceptive and always managed to get away, just as someone else came to shake his hand. He soon had to give up, feeling thoroughly depressed.
"Excuse me! Excuse me; I'd like to make a toast!" Remus called out through the noise, dinging his spoon on a glass. The music stopped. "To Harry Potter: Boy Who Lived, Chosen One, Defender of the Wizarding World!"
"Harry Potter," a hundred voices echoed rapturously, and everyone tipped their glasses back. Harry smiled weakly, feeling as though he didn't particularly want to be there. He scanned the area, his eyes seeking out Hermione. Of course, she had made the toast too.
Harry noticed that Snape wasn't at the party. A sudden thought struck him, and he excused himself, glad of a reason to get out of the party. He started making his way to the dungeons, then took a quick detour to the seventh floor, where the Room of Requirement was.
He rapped his knuckles on Snape's door, and, hearing a muffled, "come in," he stepped in. Snape was organising his horrible-slimy-things-in-jars, and he froze and his eyebrows shot up as soon as he saw Harry entering.
"Err…" Harry didn't know exactly what to say. The two of them had not spoken one-on-one since the day Snape had shown him his memories. "How come you aren't at the party?"
"I despise social gatherings." Snape's eyes narrowed. "Is there a reason you're here?"
"I have something of yours," Harry said, passing him the Half-Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Snape's eyebrows rose further as his fingers flipped open the battered, scribbled over pages. His lips curled upwards in a weird way, and Harry realised with a jolt he was smiling.
"You keep it," said Snape, pushing it back towards Harry. "Merlin knows you'll need it if you ever brew any complex potions."
Harry blinked in surprise, and looked down at the tattered little book. It might have once belonged to Snape, but Harry had to admit, it would come in handy.
"It might interest you to know," said Snape softly, eyes focussed on the book, "that it was your mother who taught me to create spells."
"Really?"
"She was extraordinarily gifted at Charms. She wrote a lot of her own in here… somewhere… here." He had turned to one of the very back pages, and amid Snape's spiky scrawl were words in neat, curly handwriting, in bright orange ink.
Snape was wearing an odd expression. He was staring at the words intensely, his eyes taking in every flick and curl of Lily's writing.
"Professor," said Harry quietly, "She- my Mum- she wouldn't have wanted you to grieve forever…"
Snape's head snapped up, his black eyes wide. He looked slightly threatening in his shock.
Harry, who thought he was pushing his luck, went on: "She'd have wanted you to- you know- move on."
Snape looked flabbergasted. He looked Harry up and down, calculating something, before he snorted, though not in humour. "I have things to do," he said coldly, before turning around and shunning Harry.
Harry picked up the old book, and, as quietly as he could, walked to the door. "Oh, and Sir?" Snape froze, which Harry knew meant he was listening. "Thanks."
*
Harry stepped outside.
The rain was a light drizzle, falling from the sky in miniscule droplets so small Harry hardly felt it. This was the first rain they had had in days, so Harry didn't mind it too much, and started roaming down to the lake, fists stuffed in his pockets, kicking mud as he went.
He hadn't had much time to himself, to think about all the things Luna had told him. He needed to clear his mind, figure this mess out.
If only he hadn't stalled, hadn't frozen. This was so typical: he had always been rubbish with girls. But this was Hermione, one of the closest people to him: he shouldn't have acted that way around her.
The rain had become heavier. Thick drops were descending from the cloud-strewn sky, and soon Harry was soaked. He watched as pebble-sized droplets bounced along the surface of the lake.
"You're going to catch your death of cold."
Harry span round so quickly he hurt his neck. There had to be something wrong with his eyes. What he was seeing was Hermione standing behind him, holding an umbrella. She had a sad look on her face, and starting approaching Harry slowly.
"Hermione," Harry began breathlessly, but Hermione cut him off.
"Harry, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you, I needed some time to think. But I came here to say- I'm sorry about what happened the other night," she said in a low, quiet voice, her sparkling eyes fixed on the lake. "I- I just wanted to let you know how I feel. I understand if we can't be friends anymore," she whispered, and something trickled down her cheek. Harry couldn't be sure whether it was the rain or tears. "I'm just- I'm sorry."
"Well I'm not," said Harry quietly, but fiercely.
Hermione gasped sharply, and swivelled on the spot to face him. She gaped at him for a moment, and then slowly started shaking her head.
"No," she whispered sadly, her eyes flooding. "No, Harry, please don't do this. Don't pretend just to make me feel better." She turned on her heel and started to walk in the direction of the castle.
"No!" Harry, who had been waiting for days to speak to her, wasn't going to blow his chance now. He rushed over to her. "That's not true! That's not what I'm doing!"
"It's ok, Harry. I know its Ginny you really want to be with," Hermione whispered.
Harry closed his eyes in exasperation. "No, we split up, Hermione! Ages ago! Why won't you believe me? Why do you insist that I don't feel the same way?"
Hermione chuckled dryly. "As if you could love me, the know-it-all bookworm."
There was a silence between them. The rain splattered across the grounds, plopping into the lake with miniscule splashes and plastering Harry's fringe to his forehead. He blinked the rain away, and stared at Hermione who was facing away from him, though no longer walking. Harry let her words echo in his head for a few more silent seconds, before swallowing.
"Hermione, look at me." Slowly, her tear-filled eyes found his. "How could you think that?" he said in barely more than a whisper. "You're intelligent, yes, the most intelligent person I've ever met. But- but you're more than that, too. You're caring, brave, loyal, beautiful…" Harry stopped to moisten his lips, which were dry despite the pouring rain. This was hard for him. He'd never said things so deeply from his heart before.
Tears were now streaming down Hermione's cheeks, which were flushed bright red. "You've- you've never-" she gasped, "shown any sign before!"
"Because I was a kid," he said breathlessly. "A kid who didn't really know what love was. How was I supposed to know what I felt?
"You've always been beside me, Hermione, whenever I needed you, you were there. When- when that snake got you, and I thought you were dead… I never felt so… I couldn't…" he clutched at his heart, to try and illustrate how he had felt. "I just couldn't go on. I don't ever want to feel like that again, Hermione. Please… I love you."
A sob escaped her throat. Dropping the umbrella aside, she flung herself at him, and they kissed. Harry could feel tears starting to flow down his face too, as emotion after emotion hurricaned through his head.
After the kiss broke, after an eternity, Harry wrapped his arms around her so tightly they almost hurt, and they stood hugging in the rain. Harry buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, while she sobbed happily at his shoulder. It seemed that only now could he appreciate the Dark Lord's downfall.
Voldemort was gone. Hermione was his. He was free.
*
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