Chapter Twenty-Six
THE DEMENTOR'S TOUCH
Author's Note: Having trouble uploading this one. I think it might be too long. Part two of two.
* * *
Harry had lost count of the number of times he'd been in this situation. He was sitting, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped before him.
In the hospital wing.
At Hermione's bedside.
Waiting for something to happen.
The sun was sinking fast below the horizon. Harry had been watching it for some time now, unable to look at his best friend's face. He should have been used to this by now, but he wasn't. What had once been concern for Hermione's well being was now a gut-wrenching pain and terrible ache that came around whenever she encountered misfortune.
It was only a few hours before that Harry and Hermione had been in the Three Broomsticks sipping butterbeers, but it seemed like a lifetime ago to him. Just as faraway in his memory was Professor Lupin coming in to tell him and Ron the cost of the dementors' attack on Hogsmeade. Thirteen injured. Six kissed. Two dead.
And one of them was a Hogwarts student, a third year Hufflepuff that Harry had never heard of. Every time he looked over at Hermione's pale face, he tried to remind himself that it could be worse, but a small voice in the back of his mind would tell him that it had certainly been bad enough.
The space between the hanging privacy curtains widened.
"Hey," said Ron, slipping back through with two glasses of pumpkin juice and a plate of sandwiches. Harry turned just in time to see the redhead's face fall as he caught sight of Hermione's still form. "No change, huh? I was... I was almost sure she'd be up by the time I got back." He paused. "That's usually how it works, anyway. Pumpkin juice and a sandwich?"
"No," said Harry, "I really don't think so."
"It just doesn't seem right," Ron agreed, "but take something anyway. I just got told off by Madam Pomfrey. She's chucking us both out otherwise."
Harry sighed and reluctantly took what Ron was offering him. He set the juice down on Hermione's bedside table while Ron made his way around the hospital bed to the chair on Hermione's other side.
"What do you reckon's wrong with her?" Ron said after a long pause. It had been that way all afternoon; neither boy felt much like speaking. Ron's trip down to the kitchens had been the first time the three had been apart since the somber return from Hogsmeade.
Harry took up Hermione's hand, which was cool to the touch. "Third year," he said quietly, "Professor Lupin told me that a person's reaction to the dementors has nothing to do with weakness. Some just have horrors in their past that others don't. Harry dropped Hermione's hand, his sandwich forgotten. "But you already knew that."
"You might have mentioned it," said Ron. Harry was looking down again, but he knew Ron had finished his own sandwiches because he had heard his friend wipe his hands clean on his robes. "They made you pass out, more than once, but that's as bad as I've ever seen it."
"Yeah," agreed Harry, and they lapsed back into silence. They were back where they started, wherever that was. He had started to clasp his hands together when pinpricks of pain shot up his right arm. His hand locked up for a few seconds, and Harry had to massage the feeling back into it with his left hand. It had happened before, and it was his suspicion that it had not healed completely in response to Hermione's charms the weekend before, but he didn't intend to do anything about it at that moment. Maybe when Hermione woke up. Or after he'd completed his O.W.L.s. Or before the term ended.
"Or before I graduate from Hogwarts," muttered Harry. He reached out and touched Hermione's cheek. "Oh, Hermione."
"Hmm?" Ron wanted to know, looking up. "Did you say something?"
"I think I was talking to myself," said Harry. A long stretch of time passed before Ron said anything.
"Then you won't mind if I do a little talking-to myself."
Harry looked up at his friend. It was a troubling statement in the sense that he thought Ron had really lost it.
"It's really frustrating," Ron said quietly, "to care-to be in love with someone when someone or something else is keeping the two of you apart. It's made even more frustrating when you have to watch something, day after day, that you know could be great.
"I've got these friends, you see, that would be perfect for each other. I'm not trying to play matchmaker; they don't even need that. They're already more together than any couple I know. They know each other, they understand each other, and they trust each other. They're always there for each other.
"I just don't understand how they can be content as they are, as platonic friends. Maybe they've talked about it and decided that this way is best, but they sure haven't told me if they have." Ron sighed. "If they haven't talked and haven't decided, I wish that they would. Because I think that there's something there, something rare but right, and I don't want them to miss out on that. They are, after all, my best friends."
Harry was staring at Ron, his mouth fallen open just a bit, amazed that he'd been able to get that out without looking the least bit flustered. Then again, it wasn't him. What does one say in response to something so heartfelt? Harry wasn't sure.
"You'd best eat that sandwich," Ron advised, "before Madam Pomfrey comes in to check on Hermione again. The timing would be about right." He took a last swig from his own glass of pumpkin juice. "My, my. The reactions I get for just going off-"
Harry snorted. "Why did you have to do that?" he demanded, a little more angrily than he had intended.
"Why? I told you why," Ron said nonchalantly. "I don't blame you, Harry, in the least for falling for her. I-" Ron paused. "I know I did. This time, though, she's fallen, too. And I'll have trouble not blaming the two of you if it ruins your friendship because neither of you admitted how you really feel."
"I have not fallen for Hermione," said Harry, a little more loudly than he had intended.
"Let me rephrase that, then. You're in love with Hermione. It's always been there, so it wasn't really falling. It was changing from what it once was." Ron finally looked at Harry. "I'm not trying to tease you, mate, make you feel uncomfortable, or put you on the spot. I'm trying-well, look at it this way. What I said was all true, no?"
"All true," said Harry quietly. His hands were, again, very interesting. Suddenly, Harry realized what Ron had said. "Wait-you fell for her?"
"You didn't notice?"
Harry nodded, but it wasn't to say yes. "Last year," he said slowly. "You were insanely jealous of-Krum. I kind of knew that couldn't have all been about loyalty to me."
"Sorry, mate," Ron grinned.
"But-but-" Harry nearly bit his tongue. "That's all the more reason for me to back off. You liked her first!"
"And I love Anna," said Ron. There was no embarrassment in admitting this. "Hermione and I, we don't tell you everything, just like you and I don't tell her everything and the two of you don't tell me everything. There's even times when we just keep to ourselves.
"I had all summer to mull over Hermione. I worked it up to be more than it was. I got the courage to tell her how I felt on her first day at the Burrow." Ron laughed. "So here we are, ready to try this new us, and I get the nerve to kiss her. Nothing. Nice and friendly, but no sparks. It was like Hermione was suddenly Ginny, so we had a good laugh and a long talk, and we're actually better friends for our misguided affection."
"How'd you manage to keep that from me?" Harry wanted to know. He'd know, or at least his mind had registered it as a possibility, that Ron had liked Hermione the year before. Maybe he figured that Ron's crush had gone away over the summer. Or maybe he had forgotten because about it because it was convenient to do so.
Ron shrugged. "It wasn't like we sat down and swore by Merlin that we weren't going to tell you. It never even came up. It just worked out, not telling you."
"Glad to know there wasn't some conspiracy to keep me out of the loop," Harry grumbled. He was looking at Hermione, not Ron, and his heart was racing. He didn't know whether or not this was it. He didn't know what he was or wasn't going to say. He didn't know if it would change his relationship with his two best friends, possibly forever.
"It just never came up," said Ron. "Herms and I... well, I can't say it wasn't awkward in the beginning. We had to learn to be friends again. The whole mess with the Forveret Bursen brought the two of you together and helped me find Anna. That's when it started, didn't it? You and Hermione?"
"You've just been trying to get a confession out of me this whole time," Harry countered.
"Yep, you've got me," said Ron, but he was laughing. "You did just admit that there's a confession to be had."
"No confession here," said Harry before he could stop himself. He mentally smacked his hand against his forehead. This was his best friend Ron, after all. Then again, he gave the same title to Hermione.
"In one sentence," said Ron, reminding Harry of a stupid Muggle game show he was sure he had seen before, "describe what Hermione is to you."
"Hermione is..."
And Harry was unable to continue. His own words echoed in his mind. Already, his prompt answer was a dead giveaway. He had been about a half second away from identifying her as his everything.
"...My best friend."
Even that spoke volumes. Ron couldn't help but look smug.
"You have it bad, mate," said Ron wisely, and he smirked for a moment, but that, fortunately, was all. It was so uncharacteristic of him.
Harry sighed. "You do not know how weird this is," he said. "It wasn't so long ago that we were wee ickle firsties without any sense of attachment to a certain know-it-all-" he said this rather affectionately "-with bushy brown hair and bad teeth."
"And now?"
"Now-five years have passed. We're not so far away from being out of Hogwarts. The two of us are still best friends, but that little girl is also right there. She's told us how to brew illegal potions and use a Time-Turner and do summoning charms. And-"
Harry broke off. "I'm beating around the bush. Somewhere in there, she went from a little girl to a very attractive witch and-if you ever tell her or anyone else that I said that, Ron, the fact that you're my best friend will become irrelevant. I will have to kill you."
Ron was laughing so hard that he nearly took seat on the infirmary's floor. Pretending to swoon, he began, "`A boy like no other, perhaps-yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence...'"
Harry was about to make a lunge at Ron when the reality of the situation came back to him. A very pale, sickly Hermione was still in the hospital bed between them, and not even Harry's admittance of his feelings for her would wake her any sooner.
"She'll be okay, Harry," said Ron quietly.
Harry nodded. He took her hand in his but had to look away. "I'm curious," he said at long last. "What made you start with all of that?"
"I told you," said Ron. "You're my best friends. I know you two better than you sometimes know yourselves."
"No," said Harry. "I get all that. Well, sort of. I want to know when you became the resident love expert."
"Oh," said Ron, understanding. "I think everyone feels the way I do. They all go through me to say so, at least. I talk about it with Anna, and I swear Dobby just isn't admitting his previous occupation as a love shrink."
"Dobby? Dobby the house-elf?"
"Oh yeah," said Ron. "Dobby's very brilliant... and yes, I was just as surprised as you are. Face it. You're my best friend. Given that and everyone else's opinions, I was bound to know what I was talking about." Harry nodded, looking to Hermione as Ron added, so quietly that Harry did not hear, "And sometimes there's just some outer powers that declare how things ought to be."
* * *
"You're going to make yourself sick, that is, if you haven't already caught your death!" Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue most impatiently as she checked over the still unconscious Hermione. "Honestly, a third year drying charm for a downpour! Why, I have half a mind to-"
Harry and Ron never got what to hear what she had half a mind to do because, at that moment, she had turned and caught sight of Harry's expression, which was parts worried, angry, frustrated, and upset-all at once. The aging mediwitch sighed, her own expression softening.
"You did have a spot of dinner, no?" Madam Pomfrey asked Harry. He nodded. "Very well. Perhaps... yes, perhaps the two of you can stay a while longer. I can't say I won't kick you out... eventually... keeps rising... might just have to."
Because she was departing as she said all this, Harry only made out part of what Madam Pomfrey had said. Still, it was enough. He reached up to push some of Hermione's frazzled hair from her face. The nurse had pushed some of the strands out of place.
"You got all that?" said Ron in disbelief.
Harry nodded. "`I won't kick you out yet,'" he said, filling in the gaps, "`but eventually, if her temperature keeps rising, I might just have to.'"
"That does it," Ron declared, "you're some kind of selective listener, mate. You don't even hear half the stuff I try to tell you, but anything Hermione says or anything said about her you can repeat word for word."
"True," said Harry sheepishly. "Then again, half of what you say, Weasley, is about the Cannons. Face it-they're never going to get any higher in the league. There's no point in me listening."
"Hey! They'll be making a comeback anytime now," said Ron, and Harry noticed that he was crossing his fingers. "I can just feel it."
"Like you did last year? And the year before? And the year before that?" Harry couldn't help but add. "Just keep hoping for the best, will you?"
"I will," said Ron crossly. "I don't think you should have the right to comment on it. You got in on Quidditch much too late in the game to have a real opinion. You just support Puddlemere because they're at the top of the league."
"They were fifth when I first heard of Quidditch," Harry countered, "I just like them... and if they happen to win the league this year like everyone says they will, well, that's great, too."
"Still cheating," Ron grumbled. "I'm going to stick to what I said earlier. You got in way too late in the game to have a valid opinion. I've practically liked the Canons since before I was born-"
"Follower."
"Opportunist."
"It's not my fault that the Canons suck."
"Puddlemere only has one really good player."
"Are you forgetting Wood?"
"He doesn't count. He's still reserve."
"Reserve? Speaking of which, the Canons might have a chance if they'd play Kilroy."
"He'll play next year."
"Yeah? You said he'd play four years ago. He'll be dead before they think to do anything with him."
"At least I didn't pick a team just for their league rank. Puddlemere-"
"Was James's Quidditch team as well," Professor Lupin chuckled, standing in the gape where the privacy curtains didn't quite meet. "You used to have this Quidditch mobile in your room, Harry, that would whistle support for Puddlemere. It was the only thing that could make you fall asleep, which drove Lily nuts." Without missing a beat, the Defense professor stepped in and added, "So perhaps, Ron, he is justified in supporting Puddlemere. You'll get on well with Padfoot. I think he's learnt to write with his fingers crossed. Quidditch was the one thing we never agreed on-let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads."
"Pr-professor L-Lupin," Harry stammered. He had not expected to see him so soon, despite his promise to return the current situation to Harry and Ron. Immediately, Harry took notice of how weary he looked. It was much, much worse than usual.
"Has something else happened?" Ron wanted to know.
"There was a third death," Lupin said softly. "The six year old girl in Honeydukes with her parents."
Harry felt as if he were going to throw up. Make that three dead and twelve injured.
"The Hufflepuff," Ron said finally, never looking up, "did his parents get here?"
Lupin nodded solemnly, clutching Harry's shoulder firmly as he peered down at Hermione. "That's where I came from," he said. "Dumbledore sent me on for a word with the two of you. Again, it is Professor Sprout that knew him best."
It took Harry a moment to understand what Lupin had meant, but when it finally came to him, it struck as hard and fast as being cursed with your back turned. Of course. There had been Cedric just short of one year before.
"Voldemort set the dementors on Hogsmeade," said Harry dully. He continued when Lupin nodded again. "I can't believe he'd tell them to go after little kids and students."
"He has never discriminated in his hate, Harry," Lupin said gently. He took a seat next to Harry. "The Ministry received warning an hour too late. The dementors were sent to target Hogwarts students." There was a moment of silence, obviously for the boys to absorb what they had just heard. "You saved a lot of lives, Harry. Try not to-try not to think in terms of losses. The dementors were to kill or kiss at least twenty people."
Harry couldn't say anything in response, but Ron had some very choice words for the Dark Lord, all of which his mother would have walloped him for.
"There has been an inquiry," Lupin continued softly, "that I wasn't to tell you about. It does not go to press until tomorrow. There was a unanimous vote by the Minister's advisors. I won't go into details, but in all likelihood, they will have Bom out of office before the end of the weekend. They... they are looking to find a miracle worker for a situation that not even a miracle could make well."
"What?" Ron exclaimed loudly. Although Harry felt just as Ron looked, he refrained from making any similar exclamations. He didn't want Madam Pomfrey to remove him from the hospital wing for being disruptive. "They can't-"
"They can," said Lupin, quieter still, "and they have. Lucius Malfoy put the inquiry in less than an hour ago. There is still time, of course, but-"
"That's it," Ron said, standing up so quickly that his chair teetered dangerously toward making a very loud noise that was sure to get both Harry and him dismissed. `Malfoy!" he spat, clenching his fist at his side. "Of course he's behind it! Trying to get Bom removed from office for something that he's at least partially at fault for! He and You-Know... Voldemort and all the other bloody Death Eaters!"
Ron had more to say, but Harry stopped him. "Ron! Calm down!"
Ron's ears went red. "Um... yeah," he said quickly, catching his still wobbling chair with one of his hands and sitting back down. "Sorry about that."
"Who would be replacing Bom?" Harry said, unsure of what Lupin would make of Ron's outburst. Fortunately, Lupin did not seem the least bit phased. "It wouldn't be Malfoy, would it?"
"No, no," said Lupin quickly. "If anything is likely to replace Bom, it is Harris Barker."
"Who's he?" Harry wanted to know.
"First elect advisor to the Minister. The way it goes, if a temporary is removed from office, the first elect takes his place," said Ron. He cast a long look in Lupin's direction, and Harry could only assume it was to see if he would be crossing any lines with what he was about to say. "Barker hasn't a brain to think for himself. The only thoughts he knows and the only opinions he has are as secondhand as my old dress robes. The people that helped put him in office are all acquitted Death Eaters. Make what you will of that." Ron leaned back in his chair, his arms folded stubbornly across his chest.
"I usually wouldn't speak of politics with my students," said Lupin, "but everything Ron said is true."
"Let me guess, Lucius Malfoy was one of his supporters," said Harry.
Lupin smiled wryly. "Right in one. It was Malfoy who gave him the financial backing he needed to come to Fudge's attention."
"Why do they want Bom out of office?" Ron asked. "My dad says he's the best thing to happen to the Ministry in years."
"Oh, he is," Lupin agreed, "but many do not see it as such. Their official reason is his lack of attention after the last two Death Eater raids."
"He didn't do anything?" Harry said incredulously.
Lupin chuckled. "That's what I was thinking, Harry. It was of my opinion that his complete Auror investigations was action enough, but then he personally agreed to fund all inquires into the situation that Dumbledore might have any one of the old crowd make. If that wasn't more than enough, Bom is having the Aurors set up all kinds of wards around Muggle schools in hopes of preventing another such attack as Beauxbatons and Durmstrang."
"Wow," said Harry. His brown furrowed and he took Hermione's hand without thinking on it. "Why would they want someone so passionate about stopping Voldemort out of office?"
"Perhaps they don't want him stopped," Lupin murmured, and he quickly added, "Bom's appointment, as you both know, was controversial from the beginning. Some feel that the office is no place for former Aurors. Others distrust what he is and what he came from. There is even a handful of wizards that feel too much is being done. They're the sort that think Voldemort will go away if he is just ignored."
Ron muttered something about codswallop that Harry couldn't help but agree with. He felt Lupin's hand on his shoulder.
"Don't you think on it. You have enough to be worried about with O.W.L.s and-" Lupin stopped short, and Harry knew he'd been about to say Hermione "-and class selections for next year."
There was a moment of silence for all that had come to pass. "Professor Lupin," Harry said slowly, "What is it that's wrong with Hermione?"
"Ah," said Lupin softly, "the reason I'm here. Tell me, how is she doing?"
Harry pressed the back of his hand to Hermione's forehead. Gone was her skin's earlier coolness. She was growing paler by the minute. Harry's stomach knotted up.
Finally, he said, "She's running a fever." He took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for whatever was to come. There had been a lot of whispering between Madam Pomfrey and Professor Lupin earlier, and a lot of care had been taken to keep the boys from hearing. Harry knew that it wasn't a good sign. "She's dying, isn't she?"
"No!" said Lupin, so loudly and quickly that he seemed to surprise himself. "I mean, no, she's isn't dying." He seemed to be having some sort of inner struggle because a long time passed before he continued. "However, she may wish that she had when she wakes up."
"What did they do to her?" Ron growled.
"You know about the dementor's kiss, and you know what happens to those in their presence," said Lupin slowly, and the boys nodded. "There is one other thing that they can do. It is called the dementor's touch."
"Dementor's touch?" Ron and Harry echoed.
"Yes, dementor's touch," said Lupin. He took a deep breath, and he began. "Long before there was such thing as Azkaban prison, the Ministry of Magic was a new government just trying to get off on the right foot. People didn't trust it; they wanted back the Wizards' Council. It was often all the Ministry could do to put down rioting, so everything else was put on hold.
"Under the Council, dementors were regulated to a life on the island that would become Azkaban. They died much younger then because there weren't any souls to feed on. However, the Ministry was so occupied with formation that security grew lax on the dementor's island. They began coming to the mainland.
"The dementors enjoyed the souls, but the Ministry quickly became aware of the situation. They couldn't just have citizens being kissed right and left. Nearly all the dementors were executed, and, without happiness to feed on, their entire existence was threatened.
"It wasn't satisfying, for them, to go on the mainland. They could no longer kiss, so their content lasted only as long as they were `feeding' on the mainland. They needed a way to take that feeling back to their island. It is said that it took them a generation to develop such ability. That ability, of course, is the dementor's touch.
"So the dementors would leave their island. They would tap someone and they would `borrow' his or her soul for a period of time. The person would be reduced to something nearly dead. For hour or days, he or she would be in a coma of sorts. It would last just as long as his or her worst memory, for he or she would be forced to relive it while the dementors feasted on his or her happy moments.
"This obviously wasn't all right either, so the Ministry bargained with the dementors. Azkaban was created to keep the dementors from harming the undeserving."
For a few minutes, no one spoke.
"So... so Hermione's being forced to relive being... being..." Ron couldn't say it.
"It's often worse to remember that it actually was," Lupin said quietly. "When Hermione wakes, she will not know where she is or what came to pass. She will not remember the dementors, and, until you tell her otherwise, her mind will block out all between then and now. Time will not make sense. When Hermione wakes up, it will be as if she was just-" Lupin's voice caught; he looked very sick and upset "-brutally raped."
Harry was almost certain his heart stopped. It couldn't be like that. It just couldn't. Had he know that this was going to happen, he would have gladly switched places with her. Anything to keep her from all that. Anything. Once had almost killed her. Harry didn't honestly think she could survive it all a second time.
Harry squeezed her hand tightly. He'd failed to protect her, again, but he would always, always be there for her.
Lupin seemed to be tuned in to Harry's train of thought. "There is nothing you could have done," he said gently.
"Yeah Harry, said Ron, and Harry figured that the Defense professor had made some kind of motion to get him to do so. "You did everything you could."
"I should have gone will her. I should have insisted she stayed with me. Then, my Patronus would have gone after the dementors before they could have gone after her." Harry hated this. Harry hated seeing her like this. It was killing him in a way that no curse or dementor could manage.
"Listen to me, Harry," Lupin said. "This is no one's fault but Voldemort's. You-you and Hermione-well, she's lucky to have you. She's lucky to have a friend like you. You'll take care of her." The Defense professor stood. "I have to go to Dumbledore, but I'll come back and see how the three of you are doing shortly."
"How long?" Harry heard Ron ask. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Hermione.
"It's hard to say. It will be just after her fever breaks." Lupin glanced from Ron, to Harry, to Hermione. "I'll see to it that the two of you are allowed to stay."
"Thank you," said Harry at long last.
"There is... one other thing." Lupin said hesitantly, gripping Harry's shoulder. Harry tensed. He knew that this wasn't going to be good. "It is very likely that... that Hermione's magical abilities will be affected."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked. Harry shut his eyes tightly. He already knew.
"She will lose them," said Lupin.
"For how long?" Harry forced himself to ask.
"Sometimes it is as little as a few hours. Other times, it lasts many days." Lupin swallowed. "Usually, it is forever."
* * *
"But-"
"My decisions are final, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey threateningly, wagging her wand in Harry's face. She thrust it forward a few inches, which finally made Harry take a quick step backwards. "Both of you, out! You've been here all night!"
Harry wasn't about to go so easily. "Hermione's going to be waking up anytime now," he said stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest. "Her fever broke ages ago."
"All the more reason for you to leave now," said the mediwitch, matching his stance. "The last thing the poor dear will need is all the excitement that comes with you being here. She'll need quiet for rest after all the trauma she's been through."
"Funny, she's been `resting' for the last eighteen hours. The last thing she needs," Harry countered, "is to wake up all alone, thinking we've abandoned her."
Madam Pomfrey threw her hands up in exasperation for what had to have been the tenth time since Hermione had been brought into the hospital wing. The current debate had been raging for at least fifteen minutes. "Mr. Weasley, would you care to talk some sense into your friend here?"
Ron, who had kept out of it up until that point, was still sitting at Hermione's bedside. He looked up. "She's my friend, too. I agree with Harry."
The mediwitch looked ready to burst. She closed her eyes and began to slowly count back from ten. She was still muttering when she disappeared into her office. Harry peeked around the privacy curtains to make sure she had really gone, and he sat back down. He'd barely moved all night long. Ron had fallen asleep in his chair around midnight, but Harry wouldn't have been able to even if he had tried.
"Thanks for backing me," said Harry, looking at Ron while squeezing Hermione's hand. She moved a little under her thin blanket.
"No problem," Ron said, and they lapsed back into silence.
Harry had been unwilling, unable to leave her side, in sleep or otherwise. It hadn't been long after Ron had drifted off that it had gotten bad. Hermione's fever had begun to level off then, and she had started thrashing about in her bed. Her mouth had been moving, but no sound had come out, and Harry could only imagine what she was screaming so silently.
It had been the first time he had ever felt Hermione was helpless, although he, too, had felt pretty helpless at that moment. There was no use lying to himself about his feeling for Hermione now that he'd admitted them to Ron. Harry wanted nothing more than to be able to keep her from all the hurt.
Hermione grasped at the sheets with her right hand. A few seconds later, Harry realized that the pain in his own hand was her bone-crushing grip. It was such moments that made him wonder just how far away she was from reality. It was also such moments that reminded him of just how unfair it all was. Hermione's pink bathrobe and ashen face made her seem much younger than she really was. As her grip on his hand relaxed, Harry reached up to her forehead.
"Is her fever gone yet?" Ron asked. He had obviously been watching the whole, silent exchange.
Harry nodded. "It broke awhile ago," he reminded Ron. "She feels kind of cool. It can't be much longer now, right?"
"Lupin said it would be within the hour," said Ron.
"He did?"
Ron nodded. "He said it would be about an hour after her temperature was back to normal."
This was of interest to Harry. He had not caught this part of their third and final conversation with the Defense professor just a few hours before. He'd been too preoccupied with Lupin's earlier proposition.
"I shouldn't even be asking you this, but I've talked to Dumbledore, and we think that it might be for the best," Lupin had said. "How would you feel about telling Hermione about the touch if she's not already familiar with it?"
"Stuck on what he said first, weren't you?" Ron said, cutting right into Harry's thoughts. Harry looked up, startled.
"Er, yeah," said Harry slowly. "How do you feel about it?"
"I think he was talking to you, mate," Ron said quietly. "To Hermione, I'm just the average bloke."
"That's not true," Harry said quickly. "You're her best friend."
"You're her best friend, Harry."
There wasn't any real way to argue that. "But do you really think it would be so much better to hear about it from me than from Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey or Professor Lupin?" Harry wanted to know.
"Probably." Ron paused. "You could tell her anything, Harry, and not fall out of her high standing."
"That's not true," said Harry. He took a deep breath and said stubbornly, "I don't see need for any explanation at all. Hermione's pulled through... well, not worse, but she's pulled through a lot of stuff that she wasn't supposed to. This isn't going to be any different. She'll just be mad to have missed out on an afternoon of studying for O.W.L.s."
"Do you honestly think that's true?" Ron said hesitantly.
Harry responded just as hesitantly. "No," he said hoarsely, "I don't, but it can't hurt to hope, right?"
"No, it can't," said Ron. He rested a hand on the sheets of Hermione's bed. She was lying on her side, more toward Harry, so there was plenty of space that she wasn't occupying. "At least she'll get to stay at Hogwarts, right?"
That much was true. Lupin had told them that a decision had already been made pertaining the worst-case scenario. Being the exemplary student that she was, Hermione would be allowed to stay at Hogwarts and continue her education in magic as a theory. It sounded like a nice, kind gesture, but Harry knew it wouldn't be the same. He voiced that to Ron.
"But she'll have you."
"Would you stop it with the two of us?" Harry snapped, a little more harshly than he intended to. "I say one thing about her, and you turn it into-"
"I only-" said Ron, interrupting him, but the he shook his head. "Just hear me out once more and I'll stop, all right? It might not be the best time to do so, but you've got to talk to her about how you feel sometime."
"Add another burden to her?" Harry laughed dryly. "What kind of a person do you think I am? She's been through enough. The last thing she needs to be concerned with is the misguided feelings of Harry Potter."
"They are not misguided."
"Yes, they are."
"What would you know? You're still in-"
"-In a hospital ward! If the two of you don't cut it out, I won't think twice about forcing you to leave!"
Harry and Ron exchanged a sheepish grin as the mediwitch materialized at the part in the curtains, looking very much like a vulture. She made a loud sound of disapproval before stalking off in the opposite direction. She was in mid retreat when Hermione's eyelashes began to flutter.
"Hermione!"
He'd been anticipating that moment since the afternoon before, but it still surprised Harry so much that her name came out almost like a squawk. Hermione's eyes flew open.
"No, please!"
Her throat was obviously parched, so her plea sounded positively desperate. It came out as a half sob, and she separated herself from Harry's touch immediately, a second cry getting caught in her throat. This caught Madam Pomfrey's attention, and she was back in an instant. "Miss Granger-" she started.
"Hermione, it's me!" said Harry at the exact same moment.
Hermione had managed to push herself into a sitting position. She was glancing, wide-eyed, from Harry to Madam Pomfrey to Ron. Gradually, the fear began to recede in her eyes, but a few tears continued to glisten on her cheek.
"Potter, Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey said, sounding much more like a military commander than a mediwitch. "Both of you, out! This instant!"
"No!"
All eyes were back on Hermione. She looked nervously between Harry and Madam Pomfrey.
"It's okay," she said finally. She smiled very weakly, and Harry knew her heart wasn't into it. "I thought he was someone else, Madam Pomfrey."
If Harry hadn't known better, he could have sworn he saw Madam Pomfrey's eyes fill with tears. He tried to say something, but he found that his mouth had gone very dry.
"Hermione," he said thickly. Both his mind and his heart were racing. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. When she had originally woken up after her ordeal in the Forbidden Forest, he had been the one she'd gone to above everyone else. Shouldn't it have been like that again?
"How did I get here?" Hermione said. "The last thing I remember-"
"There were dementors in Hogsmeade, Hermione," said Ron. He seemed a little more composed than either Harry or Madam Pomfrey. "They made you go through that all again."
There were a few moments of silence, and then Hermione said quietly, "Oh. Oh."
It was one word, and it spoke volumes. Harry looked up, and Hermione averted her eyes. This action was met with even more silence. He was starting to understand what Lupin had meant when he said that it would be worse than it ever had been.
"I remember," said Hermione finally.
"Then you know," said Madam Pomfrey, her voice wavering. She swallowed heavily. "Then you know that it was all just a memory?"
Hermione didn't say anything to this. She was starting to trace patterns on the thin hospital blanket with her finger. "May I have a drink of water?"
"Of course you can, dear," said Madam Pomfrey. Her wand came out of her pocket at once, and she conjured a glass out of nowhere. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No... no," said Hermione. "Can I... Can I have a moment?"
"Of course," said Madam Pomfrey again. "Come now, boys, it's time that-"
"They can stay," Hermione said quickly. The mediwitch looked skeptical, but she retreated. Hermione finished her glass of water, and Harry took it from her when she was finished and set it on her table. The same thought kept going through his mind, over and over and over again.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
"So," said Hermione, her voice wavering. "How long have I been out of it?"
"Since Hogsmeade yesterday," said Ron. He seemed to sense that Harry had since lost his ability to speak. "Harry hasn't left your side, not once. Me, I couldn't go without dinner."
"Oh, Ron," said Hermione. The way she said it made Harry look up. She gave him the weakest of smiles. "Thank you so much, both of you."
"No problem," said Harry, finally finding his voice. "So... uh... how do you feel?"
Hermione did not answer this question either. She was looking from him to Ron and back again. "Tell me," she said, her voice rising a bit with each word, "what happened?"
"Well," said Ron, and Harry was thankful for Ron's initiative in fielding the question despite the look he received. "They... kind of swooped down on you. Everyone thought that you'd be kissed, but... but..."
Harry took a deep breath. "They did something else to you. It's called the dementor's touch, which is-"
"I know what it is."
It was that statement that hurt Harry the most. She sounded so small at that moment, and so very defeated. She stopped looking at him, and Harry realized she had begun to cry. He reached out for her but pulled back. He wasn't sure if she'd find the gesture threatening or not.
"I think I want to be alone right now," said Hermione. "And I'm sure of it."
Ron nodded, filing out of the curtained area without another word. It was a bit harder for Harry.
"Hermione," he said, standing, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but he jerked his hand away again, thinking better of it. "I'm here if you need me."
"I... I know, Harry." Her voice trembled, fell between the words. She caught site of his hand, which was still in the air and shrank away from him. Harry dropped it to his side. He tried to smile at her, and he left. Ron was waiting for him at the door to the hospital wing. It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining brightly down on Hogwarts, and the sounds of various birds could be heard.
But, to Harry, it was simply background noise to Hermione's quiet sobs.
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