Chapter Three
Harry had never realized how long an entire night could be.
Hermione hovered over the boy all night, with Molly on her left and Harry on her right. The moon had neglected to come out that night, so they worked mainly under candlelight. What exactly they did, Harry never quite understood.
All he knew was how tired Hermione looked. Her eyes were red-rimmed and could barely stay open, her face was rather ashen and her hands trembled as she administered yet another potion to the boy's gaping mouth. Was this how it had felt, Harry wondered, to watch him struggle? Had Hermione felt it, too, the desperate need to do something for the other, if just to see her peaceful and content?
He tried to talk to her sometimes, but many times, Hermione merely brushed him off with a weary, "Not now, Harry."
Every time she did so, Harry couldn't help but feel rather hurt. Rarely came the times when Hermione didn't have time for him. Even when she had been studying, she would still pause and look at him, offer a satisfactory, if not slightly impatient, answer.
So Harry gave himself up to staring at the candles and casting his best friend furtive, worried glances. The two women would murmur to each other occasionally, mostly Molly pleading with Hermione to rest, but Hermione always refused. Harry would nod at these occasions, sending Hermione a pleading look, but she would merely purse her lips and turn away.
The candles burned lower, and Harry's vision blurred as the house moved more and more into darkness... he felt his eyes drop shut and he fought to keep them open... just as they shut, he heard Hermione whisper something, perhaps his name... he wasn't sure.
Then, what seemed only moments later, two gentle hands were taking him by the arms and pulling him out of the chair. His eyes opened to see a burnt stub where the candle had previously burned, and he realized that even though his eyes were open, it was almost as dark as it had been with them closed.
"Come on, Harry-- bed."
"No." he slurred, "I's okay..."
"It's all right... come on--"
He squinted sleepily into the dark where the voice and the hands were coming from, and then he saw, dimly, Hermione's familiar face.
"I can stay, Hermione, really, I'm okay..." he protested hoarsely, but Hermione shook her head firmly, a small smile on her face.
"You need rest, Harry, you can barely keep your eyes open." she said, pulling him up the stairs. Harry felt himself being lead into a room... Ron's room... and being gently pushed into bed.
The covers were pulled back and tucked over him, the pillow carefully placed under his head, and then a pair of soft lips softly brushed his cheek.
"Good night, Harry."
The door shut, and only then did Harry realize that not only was he alone, but that his fingers were pressed to his cheek where her lips had previously rested.
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