A oneshot I wrote for Valentine's Day, which somehow was lost in translation…enjoy. ;) It used to be a Sirius/OC fic, turned into a hideous AU, and now is finally free of errors I hope. If you'd like to flame this story for the outrageous mistakes it had, you're more than welcome to. :D
Truly, Madly, Deeply
She waited anxiously for news of him. The battle had been raging for a long time, and Voldemort's forces seemed to have gained the upper hand, as far as the regular reports that came in, said. The reason of her anxiety was Harry, her lover of several years, who was amidst the fray, and also on the losing side.
Notice of casualties kept arriving; Hermione was increasingly standing on edge, waiting, hoping with increasing desperation.
"Tell them to call if off and disapparate to safety," she heard the gruff voice of one of the Auror commanders. "I don't want to lose more men."
"Right," the younger Auror he was talking to affirmed the order, and rushed toward another office to relay the message.
Hermione caught up to the general, just as he was turning to apparate back to the fighting field.
"Sir!" she called out loudly; the man turned, nearly losing his balance, but still managing to retain his stance.
"Yes?" he said inquiringly. His black eyes penetrating into Hermione's, imploring her to make haste with her words
"What has happened to Harry Potter?" she asked quietly, in a quavering voice; her brown hair framed her pale face, as her brown eyes automatically looked to the ground, expecting the worst…
"Leave me for now, girl," the general responded forcefully. "I have more important matter to attend to; the list of casualties and injured will be revealed within the next few days."
Without a hint of sympathy or consideration, the head Auror disapparated with a small crack, leaving Hermione by herself; a tear rolled down her cheek, and from weakness, she collapsed on her knees, sobbing quietly in her hands.
**
Two more days had passed without news. She had sent word repeatedly, only to be turned down, with the excuse that they were still taking inventory and making arrangements.
That fateful morning, however, something did happen; while nervously sipping a cup of coffee, Hermione noticed a snowy white owl hovering impatiently outside the window, clasping a letter in its talons. With the brilliant winter sunshine, it looked almost invisible in the surrounding snow.
She very nearly dropped the cup, as she placed it on the table, and hastily ran to the window; Hermione threw it open, and the owl flew in, spreading a shower of snowflakes with the beat of its wings. It circled around the room and landed on the chair Hermione had been sitting on moments ago.
With shaking hands, she disengaged the envelope from the owl's talons. The bird continued to look at her inquisitively, as if it was trying to say, "Don't worry."
Inside the envelope was the flower of a bloody red rose, in full bloom, and undiminished in the beauty it represented…along with it, was a folded parchment, with Harry's writing visible on it.
Trembling all over, Hermione unfolded the parchment.
My love,
I write these words, with regret heavy on my heart.
It is tonight that our commander has ordered us to intercept and battle a company of Death Eaters; I know you received note of it earlier, and that you will be waiting for me…
Unfortunately, we are hopelessly outnumbered. I argued with the commander, for several hours, that he was sending us to our graves, but he wouldn't listen. It is with this regret I write that I believe my fate to be sealed. Winning against them is an unconceivable thought, and it is very probable that many will perish tonight.
Which is why I wanted to tell you that, if the fates have determined this to be the last of my Earthly days, that…
There was a circular smudge of ink before the next words…it seemed a single tear had fallen from Harry' eye when he was writing…
…that I love you, with my whole heart. If I should not see you after tonight, please, know that I will always watch over you, protect you, and be devoted to you…even in death.
I leave all I have to you, Ron and Luna…and this you will find in my will at Gringotts.
Take care of yourself, dearest, and live a happy, long life.
I will be waiting for you.
Eternally yours,
Harry
Hermione clutched the parchment to her chest. Her jaw quivered, and another tear threatened to fall. For the past few days, she had been in a constant state of turmoil and worry; fitful sleep left her tired and exhausted. At the rare times she was able to rest, dreams of her beloved filled her mind…
This letter placed finality, an almost real possibility that she would not see him again. Harry had expressed his farewell letter to her, because he knew…he knew his life had almost certainly come to an end…
But then, he said he would wait for her…what if he didn't have to wait long? What if she joined him, she thought, right now even…it wouldn't take long…she would be quick to do it…
Yet, something stopped her; it was the strangest of feelings. Small, insignificant, but it undermined her resolve. That feeling told her, there might still be a chance…a glimmer of hope, one might say…
Hermione hurriedly dressed and in the space of a few minutes, rushed from the door, even forgetting to lock it after her. She ran into the street, the blowing snow immediately pushing her back when she appeared outside; a storm must have set in place of the earlier sunshine. Hermione fought the wind, walking as quickly as the circumstances would allow her, towards the Ministry. It was her last hope, and if it proved false, she thought with grim satisfaction of sweet death…
At last, tired from her effort against the storm, Hermione stumbled into the Ministry, breathing laboriously, trying to slow her heart from the excitement pulsing within her.
She literally ran to one of the clerks sitting behind a rather well polished mahogany desk.
"Good day," she wheezed, still out of breath. "I have a question."
"Calm yourself, madam," the clerk replied uneasily. "What can I help you with?"
"The list, the list," Hermione talked wildly, working herself into a near frenzy.
"What list, madam?" The clerk was becoming rather alarmed, standing up to help support the suffering woman.
"Auror list…the last battle…" Hermione breathed out, before the world quickly disappeared into a black abyss, and she fainted into serene peace. The last memory she would recall was a pair of strong arms preventing her from hitting the floor.
**
She was unaware of how long she had been unconscious. Now, as her senses slowly reinvigorated themselves, Hermione began to focus more clearly on her surroundings.
She was lying in a bed, supported by several pillows. The same clothes were still on her body. On a bedside cabinet, rather diminished in appearance by age, a few vials stood, some empty, and others still containing potions of various unsettling colours.
Eyes still bleary and not fully accustomed to the dim lighting, Hermione turned her head to look sideways.
On a bed, exactly in resemblance to hers, was another individual. Hermione could not fully focus on the blurry image, but the person seemed badly injured. She could make out a swollen eye, and a bandage around the top of the head. An arm and a leg were immobilized in casts, and the person's torso was wrapped tightly in bandages, red with his, or her, blood.
"Ah, Ms. Granger, you are awake," the pleasant voice of a motherly nurse startled her attention back to her own situation. She looked at the nurse with wide eyes.
"How do you know my name," she asked, slurring her words.
"Your wand," the nurse answered quietly. "Now lie back. You need your rest."
"What's wrong with me?" Hermione inquired again with difficulty.
"Stress, my dear. You have put yourself through quite an ordeal," the nurse explained patiently. "If Mr. Potter -"
"Harry!" Hermione became animated at once. "What of him?"
"It would be wiser to reveal the news later -" the nurse began, but was cut off.
There was a tense pause, as the nurse and Hermione locked gazes.
"Tell me," Hermione requested quietly, in a tone that could make a heart of stone break; the tenderness in her voice could not fail to touch the reader, or the nurse…
"He is lying in the bed next to you, dear," she responded slowly, indicating the badly hurt individual in the subsequent bed with a wave of her hand.
Despite her exhaustion and rather compromising condition, Hermione found the strength to stand up, gradually. The nurse, feeling she was intruding on a personal moment, retreated further back into the shadows, rather than doing her job and restraining her charge.
Had she been stronger, Hermione would have shouted to the heavens with relief and happiness. Harry was alive; quite disadvantaged in his current position, but alive nonetheless.
She turned towards the nurse, as a sudden new worry arose within her. "Will he live?" she whispered with newfound fear.
"We are doing the very best we can, Miss Granger," the nurse replied solemnly, "but his injuries are heavy and extensive."
Hermione held her breath. "However, there is a good chance Mr. Potter will make a full recovery," the nurse went on with a small smile. "That is, if Mr. Weasley can come back with the potion in time."
Hermione's thoughts immediately jumped to Harry's best mate, Ron Weasley, and his wife of only a few weeks, Luna.
"When is he meant to arrive?" she enquired anxiously.
"Within the hour," the nurse answered with some difficulty, averting her eyes before she continued. "Else we may lose Mr. Potter irreversibly."
The wall clock seemed to tick off the seconds more loudly than was natural. Hermione's gaze was fixed intensely upon it, almost hypnotized, moving with the second hand. Her own hand had clutched Harry', as she sat in increasing anticipation…
The motherly nurse walked back and forth, evidently in increasing irritation; she was checking her own wrist watch every few seconds.
At last, after an incredibly tense half an hour, running steps sounded in the hallway outside.
"Come on, there isn't much time," the voice of Ron Weasley, which Hermione recognized, called to someone else accompanying him, which was without a doubt Luna.
They burst through the door, and skid to a halt.
"Nurse Aquileia," Ron said in a harrowed voice. "The potion."
He handed her a small vial, corked at the top, and filled to its entire capacity with a dark blue potion.
"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," the nurse responded in her excitement. "Right, right, now we have to be really careful…"
Absorbed in her own profession once more, the nurse hastily ran over to Harry' bedside, and with practiced skill, poured the potion in his mouth, and with a flick of her wand, made it travel down towards his stomach, rather than down the wrong passage.
"I will only permit him to stay awake for so long," the nurse instructed. "Then I must return him to his sleeping state; Mr. Potter also needs his rest," she finished, and looked pointedly at Hermione.
The effect was nearly immediate.
Harry drew in a deep, sudden breath that made his lungs burn with pain. His eyes flew open, and sudden clarity engulfed his mind. His heart beat faster, and confused, he cast his gaze around, as much as his injured neck would allow him.
Ron and Luna were standing on one side of him. "Good to have you back, mate," Ron said, smiling, obviously elated at the fortunate turn of events.
"What happened to me?" Harry murmured quietly, closing his eyes in an attempt to recall a memory. "I was fighting with Lestrange, and…"
"Hush," Luna whispered gently, "we can talk about this later. There's someone else here, who wants to see you."
Harry nodded slightly, and turned his head slowly. The nurse came into view, and the questioning expression that came onto his face, was immediately replaced with one of immense delight when he saw Hermione come into view in front of him.
She looked ready to throw herself onto him, but internally, Harry was glad she withheld herself; he could barely move, and a hug might as well have finished him off completely.
Regardless, Hermione still leaned to kiss him. Feeling her lips upon his once again, when he was very nearly certain that he would not enjoy it again, seemed as if it were a dream.
"Hermione," Harry said huskily, once they had parted.
Words were needless; volumes were spoken with the mere lock of gazes they shared…
Her eyes shone brilliantly with unshed tears. Harry knew they were of relief; he felt slightly guilty for making Hermione fear the worst and endure the whole ordeal on his behalf.
"Your letter," she said. "I almost…"
"No, no," Harry was quick to reassure her. "Everything is alright now."
Another smile broke over her features. In the background, Ron Luna, and the nurse were observing the affair in respectable silence.
"What day is it today?" Harry asked purposefully, still more quietly.
"The fourteenth. Why?" Hermione was puzzled.
Harry found the strength to snap the fingers of his uninjured hand, and out of thin air, a bouquet of red roses appeared; they landed right in Hermione's arms. She gasped in surprise, and fixed an incredulous look on her significant other, full of both surprise and admiration.
"Happy Valentine's Day," Harry proclaimed. "Though I will take you out for it love, once I'm out of this ruddy bed." His sense of humor seemed to be returning as well. "Mate, you and Luna coming then?"
Ron responded in the affirmative, and continued to watch the other two with bemusement.
Hermione, overflowing with delight, proceeded to shower Harry' face with kisses. "I love you, you know," she murmured against his lips.
"Yes, yes I do know that," he replied himself. "And I love you too."
**
The author, also quite satisfied with the fortunate conclusion of this story, would also desire to forward his best wishes for Valentine's Day upon the recipient of this gift…and much in resemblance to Hermione, to believe in the powerful mystery that is love…make this day a memorable one…
Fin.
A/N The lesson here, ladies and gentlemen, is that if you're going to adapt one of your fics to a different ship, don't do a quick find and replace, but really read over everything…
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