Chapter Thirty-Seven
COME BACK TO ME
More upset than she had been all year, Hermione wanted nothing more than to curl up in Harry's lap to hear him tell her that he would be there no matter. She wanted him to take her hand and stroke her hair and rub her back in those little circles like he was so good at doing. She wanted him to get angry so she could calm him down. She wanted his confidence in her so that she would not lose what little she had left in herself. She wanted him so desperately and ached for him so much that she was certain she had stopped wanting Harry for her need of him.
It didn't matter, what she wanted or even what she needed. Sitting on the stone floor of the dark chamber, covered in blood and sweat and tears and all sorts of fifth, Hermione had to settle for hugging her knees to her chest. It seemed as though time stood still in that dank little room as she cried the same tears and banished the same thoughts and made the same wish over and over again. She couldn't imagine life without Harry, let alone live it, and she was so scared that what little she had would crumble also, she couldn't bring herself to try and awaken Ron.
Resting her cheek on her knee, Hermione found herself unable to turn her head from Harry's body. If one were to disregard his obvious abdominal wound and look past the scratches, bruises, and blood on his face, he looked oddly peaceful. One of his hands had actually come to rest across his stomach, blocking the worst of that, and the other rested on his leg-she had placed it there when she finally let go. His hair was messy, as always, and his glasses no more askew than they ever were.
It didn't seem right, that his time had come so soon. Even if this moment was years and years down the line, Hermione couldn't see how he deserved such a violent ending. Krum had gone in an instant, and if anyone deserved an excruciatingly painful death, it was him, if not Voldemort. Hermione didn't even allow herself to think about the Dark Lord. She was afraid that she would convince herself that his disappearance was for good only to have him reappear in the following minutes.
Hermione also didn't allow herself to think about her own injuries. Certainly, the only thing worse than the crushing pain in her right leg was the throbbing of her left, or perhaps the certain break in her wrist. Her entire body was stinging, probably from the magic left behind in Voldemort's wake. She did realize that both her legs were injured now, which would make escaping the room nearly impossible, and she finally worked up the courage to call out to Ron.
"Ron?" she said, suddenly aware how much time had passed. Ron should have stirred by now, yet he did not respond as she called. Her heart began to break all over again. "Ron?"
Still no answer. No, no, no. She had already lost Harry; Ron couldn't be gone as well. He just couldn't. Convincing herself to cast a glance in the redhead's direction, Hermione found him as still and unmoving as their friend, his body actually slumped more awkwardly on the floor.
Hermione let out a strangled sob. They were only supposed to find an empty room. They were only supposed to find clues to her attacker's identity, not her attacker. They were only supposed to stay there a few minutes. Harry and Ron weren't meant to find eternity there, were they?
"Ron," Hermione said again, "please, not you too. Please..." She dragged herself closer, and it was only then that she noticed the rise and fall of his chest. Ron was still out from the Stunner, that was all, but tears continued to flow down Hermione's cheeks. She scooted closer to the redhead, finally close enough that she could touch him. Even then he did not stir.
At that moment, the doors leading into the chamber flew open. Hermione yelped, fully expecting an angry Voldemort to step through, looking for revenge.
"Miss Granger!"
It was the same voice that called on her so often in Transfigurations, but never before had Professor McGonagall sounded so frantic. The witch stopped dead in her tracks. "What has happened to you? Where are you hurt? Who has... oh, Albus!"
"Is Malfoy's story true?" someone else called. It was Professor Lupin. "And Miss Clemens?"
"Can't you tell, Lupin?" spat Snape, sweeping into the chamber behind the Defense professor. "Granger, where is all the blood coming from?"
"Harry," Hermione found herself sobbing. "H-he killed him. He killed Harry."
"Potter?" said McGonagall timidly, lowering herself slowly to Hermione's level. Hermione felt a hand on her back, and she stiffened.
Snape, on the other hand, strode forth without hesitation. Lupin seemed to be in shock, and Professor Dumbledore, the last of the teachers to enter the room, had lost the twinkle in his ancient eyes as he took in the situation. His mouth was set in a thin line.
"Voldemort killed him," Hermione whimpered, not allowing her professors to pull her away from Ron. She watched the Potions Master lower himself over Harry. "He was trying to protect us. He was trying to keep Voldemort from killing us, so Voldemort tried to kill him, but my wand wouldn't do it. It killed Vihar instead. He was so mad... he used the Guniet Charm, Harry hadn't a chance..."
"He is not dead Miss Granger," said Snape briskly. "He seems to be holding on still, but probably not for much longer."
"No, don't tell me that," Hermione begged, resisting Lupin's attempts to help her up now. "Don't tell me that... Don't, Professor. I felt him go... I mean, I felt his pulse. And his magic, it transferred to me. Please don't-"
Hermione was sure she made for quite a sight, fighting against the Defense professor in her ripped and torn clothing, all of which was stained with blood. She couldn't stop talking either, even when she knew she wasn't making any sense.
"Well his pulse is back, Miss Granger," Snape interrupted snidely. "It is obvious that you have been-"
Dumbledore cut in. "Get him to the hospital wing, Severus, before it is too late," he commanded in a low, gravelly voice.
Snape did as he was told, levitating Harry's still body with a flick of his wand, hurrying past the Headmaster. It was only then that Hermione saw Professors Sprout and Flitwick standing behind him, and beyond them was the most unlikely person she could imagine-Draco Malfoy.
"Hermione," said Dumbledore calmly, "is Mr. Weasley all right to move?"
Hermione finally stopped struggling, allowing Lupin to separate her and Ron. She nodded, her cheeks wet with tears. "He's been stunned... a few times."
"Very well," said Dumbledore solemnly. "Filius?"
"I'll get him to the hospital wing," Flitwick squeaked. He cast a charm on Ron at once, staggering backward as the redhead lifted, and guided him carefully out of the chamber.
"And the Krum boy," said Dumbledore cautiously. "Vihar, was it?"
Hermione nodded as the headmaster had the Herbology professor float the dead Death Eater out of the room. She started struggling again, causing Lupin to try and calm her. Despite trusting all three of the men left in the room, she couldn't help but shudder at their nearness.
Hermione couldn't take it anymore, her sobs racking her body. ""Vihar... hurt... memory... Voldemort... Harry..." she choked out, well aware that the vast majority of her words were unintelligible. She made a move to wipe away her tears and the sound of footsteps echoed across the floor. Her eyes still watery, she wouldn't have known whose hand was on her shoulder if he hadn't offered his words of comfort.
"He'll be okay," said Draco awkwardly. "Potter's strong. He's been in bad scrapes before, and he's always pulled through before. This time won't be any different." He glanced at the headmaster for approval before guiding her to her feet, though she really wasn't standing as much as being held up. Despite needing comfort only Harry could provide, she clung to Draco as though her life depended on it.
"You didn't see," she whimpered. "He was hurt so badly."
"I see what you see," said the former Slytherin, filthier than she had seen him yet. "Remember?"
"You brought everyone here," said Hermione, finally understanding.
Draco just nodded.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Mr. Malfoy, will you be able to manage the tunnels alone on your leg? I need you to retrieve Miss Clemens from my office and then go to the hospital wing, where the two of you must tell Poppy everything that you can."
"I can manage," said Draco, and he scurried off, but not before passing Hermione to the Defense professor.
The headmaster looked back to Hermione. "Miss Granger, are you ready to leave?"
Hermione bit her lip, studying the room's four walls intently for the last time. She hoped she would never again see this chamber again, but she felt strange just leaving it. Finally, however, she nodded. Dumbledore looked at Lupin.
"I wish that no more magic than necessary be used on her," he said. "If what Malfoy says has happened actually has, then it would be detrimental to try and levitate her now."
Dumbledore said something else then, but Hermione for whatever reason could not make out the words. She felt her head swimming, and she was suddenly very dizzy. She felt the professor lift her carefully and start for the door, but everything after that would be a mystery to her. Hermione closed her eyes, praying for better times when she opened the again.
* * *
"And they told me I was wasting my time, waiting for you to wake up," a lazy voice drawled. "Said you'd be out until at least tomorrow. How are you feeling, Granger?"
Hermione blinked several times, very aware that her eyes were open and somewhat worried about why she couldn't see. Despite being unable to make out her surroundings, she quickly recognized the feel of the standard-issue pillow beneath her cheek. Hospital wing. That gave here where she was, but not who she was with. She couldn't think of a single person, besides Harry or Ron, that cared enough to wait at her bedside, and her boys had certainly been injured worse than she had the night before.
The person at her bedside clucked his tongue impatiently. "Come on, Granger. Do I really sound like a member of the bloody bravery brigade?"
Though it clicked then that it was Draco, Hermione's mind had moved so far elsewhere that she didn't acknowledge the realization. Everything came flooding back to her-breaking the memory charm, going down to the room, finding Krum, facing Voldemort, waiting Harry die. Her vision just beginning to clear, the tears now slipping down Hermione's cheeks ruined it again. Of course it wasn't one of her boys at her bedside, for her rash insistence had killed Harry and nearly killed Ron. She struggled to sit up.
"What have I done?" Hermione sobbed. She was completely oblivious of Draco, even as he grabbed hold of her and started calling her name.
"Granger! Granger! Dammit, Hermione, get a grip! So Potter sang with the angels for a bit. Do you not remember what happened after that?"
Hermione still wasn't listening, not entirely, at least. "My fault... he didn't want to go... he died trying to protect..." As her sobs intensified, the hands gripping her shoulders moved, and Hermione felt herself being drawn closer to the former Slytherin and even wrapped her arms around his neck.
"I should have told him," Hermione managed before her sobs consumed her completely. For a good minute, she found herself crying into Draco's shoulder, gently being rocked back and forth, but it didn't last. Draco pulled back and held her at arm's length, his hands holding on to her upper arms. Finally, he sighed.
"That thing in the prefect bathroom," Draco muttered. "Yes, you should have told him then that you love him, not as he bled to death down there this morning." She found her hands resting atop his lower arms, the tears slowing but not stopping. "Do you remember-"
"How do you know about the prefect bathroom?" Hermione wanted to know. It had suddenly dawned on her that it should have been weird waking up with Draco there. She couldn't figure out why it wasn't. "What are you doing-"
"You don't remember," said Draco. It was his turn to interrupt. His question had at some point or another become a statement. "Hermione, what's the last thing you can recall-"
"Why do you know about the prefect bathroom?" Hermione interrupted frantically. "Where were you? Were you there, spying on us? You always show up when something bad happens. What's-"
"Get a grip!" Draco roared, causing Hermione to recoil. Her outburst had her eyes brimming with fresh tears. "Hermione, it's the Affinity. We're linked, remember? It came and went after you lost your powers, but-" Draco shook his head, loosening his grasp on her shoulder as to not startle her more than she was already. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, soothingly, "but you're going to have to talk to me. Potter knew what had happened after the Dark Lord cursed him. He knew he was dying, and it surprisingly didn't take Weasley too long to realize that as well. Weasley tried to get you away, but-"
"But he couldn't," Hermione cut in softly. "I stayed, but it wasn't like it was going to make a difference. Harry had lost too much blood. I-I shouldn't have been so surprised." She lowered her head, the tears falling yet again. Draco's arm went around her shoulders this time, and his other hand cupped her chin, lifting her head.
"Do you recall before that, still while you were holding his hand. That surge you felt?" Draco took a deep breath. "His powers at that moment transferred to you-you realize it later, but I'm not sure if you recall that. He died, minutes later, which the Dark Lord could sense because he had been monitoring those gates-Dumbledore thinks that they could have been becoming more defined in physical appearance until that moment. He came back in, seeing that Harry had died, but not before... well, the whole thing about exchanging love.
"That's when the Dark Lord stunned Weasley-do you remember any of this? He tossed you Potter's wand, not realizing you had also regained your powers. You threw a Cruciatus Curse at him, blocked one he tried to throw at you, and forced him to tell you why he had killed Harry. He tried to kill you, but since Harry had essentially died to save you, his magic and your powers created a... I'm not sure what you would call it, but the Dark Lord disappeared. The professors burst in a few minutes later-I had been with them almost as long as you had been with Krum, trying to-"
"You saw what was happening," Hermione said slowly, and Draco nodded, not even smirking even thought that was exactly what he had been saying. "You-wait, Voldemort disappeared?"
"The Killing Curse he cast was essentially reversed, but since you really don't have the correct mindset to killing anyone... no one knows where he is, but at least he's considerably weaker now," said Draco.
Hermione bit her lip. "But not dead?"
"Weakened considerably," Draco repeated, then sighed. "The headmaster doubts he's dead or even as far gone as he was the last time he disappeared, but-"
"Weakened considerably," Hermione whispered. "Not good enough." She was trying to work up enough courage to ask about Harry, but Draco didn't make her.
"I'm not going to lie to you," said Draco hesitantly, though it was very clear that he wanted to. "Potter's in a bad way. He died, Granger, nothing can change that. Your-something about all that magic brought him back. The energy or something shocked his heart back into beating. He came back, but it's not to say what happened was reversed. He was dying when you brought him back-bought him time, didn't save him. It doesn't look good, but Madam Pomfrey is determined to save him if she has to exhaust her magic for a lifetime."
Hermione, who had been helped back against her pillows minutes before by Draco, was pushed back down by him when she tried to sit back up. "I have to-"
"You can't," said Draco forcefully. "It'll only upset you to see him as he is, and besides, you're hurt too. Not in any shape to be up and about."
"You could help me," Hermione pleaded.
Draco arched an eyebrow. His gaze shifted for the first time from her and down to his leg, which was propped up on a chair and wrapped to well above his knee with clean white bandages. An apology on her tongue, Hermione was shocked to hear the same from him.
"I know you want to see him, but I'm not exactly in the position to help you even to the other side of the ward. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," said Hermione, averting her eyes. Draco's giving of himself had left her slightly off her game. "Are you going to be all right?"
"Thanks to you. Snape patched us all up because Pomfrey had to focus on Potter and Weasley. I told him all about your healing charms all those weeks ago-it turns out you stopped a massive infection from growing. I might have lost my leg." Draco shrugged suddenly. "Don't think that way. It's nothing that a nice regimen of magic and therapy can't fix."
Hermione cracked a small smile, wondering if it should have been stranger for him to know what she was thinking. The thought had no longer crossed her mind before Draco smirked, causing her to glare at him. "Then no more limping?"
"Yes, but not for awhile. At least I'll have company-you had a hairline fracture Snape fixed, but it'll take a few days for your sprained knee to heal."
Hermione nodded, reaching down to her knee. Even beneath the sheets and blankets, she could feel the bandages wrapped around it. "So..."
Draco glanced away. "Harry has a lot to live for, Hermione, but..."
"But?"
"They still aren't sure if they got to him in time."
Hermione nodded, wondering if it were possible to feel much worse than she did at the moment. "What sort of condition is he in?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to know.
"Head trauma, cuts, bruises, massive internal injuries," Draco said, muttering through much of it. "And they're worried about blood poisoning or something. His leg was shattered by one of those destruction spells the Dark Lord cast. Pretty much dusted the bone. Granger, I-"
She wasn't sure how many more tears she could cry. "Call me Hermione," she whispered. "We've been over this before."
Draco just nodded. "Right," he said. "You want to know about Weasley?"
"Do I?"
"He'll be all right, if that's what you mean," said Draco. "One of his arms is pretty busted, and his knee, I think. He had some internal injuries, but they've been taken care of. Gave the half dozen or so redheads milling about quite a scare earlier. One of his lungs had collapsed-something about one of his broken ribs. It's all been sorted out, though. He'll recover. You know, with time."
"How much longer could he have gone done there?" Draco only shrugged, turning something over in his lap. He had been reading a Quidditch magazine. Hermione just leaned back more heavily into her pillows. "Then you saved them both. You saved us all. Last time I saw you, you were trying to redeem yourself for the Forveret Bursen, and you said you'd never make it up to me. Now-"
"We will never be even," said Draco firmly, cutting in. "Don't try to make me forgive myself. I can't."
"I can."
"Blasted Gryffindor."
Hermione smiled slightly. "Can we all be friends, though?"
"Maybe you and I can," said Draco after a moment's pause. "And maybe we can all not be enemies. But I don't find myself desiring Potter or Weasley's friendship any more than they must desire mine."
"Aren't we all on the same side now?"
"Doesn't matter."
"No?" Hermione was confused. "But-"
"There will always be issues."
"Yes, but issues-we can resolve issues. Take care of them as we get to them. Bridges! Like bridges we can cross when we come to them!"
"We'd have to burn them."
"Okay, then burn."
"You're a bridge that can't be burned. At least not again," said Draco. He didn't elaborate, just opened his magazine. "You need to take the potion on your bedside table. Snape made me promise I'd have you drink it."
Hermione glanced over to the table in question. Sure enough, a goblet sat on its edge. She shifted to grab it, her heart sinking when she saw what was inside. It wasn't her first encounter with the watery blue liquid. She knew it would knot her insides and make her head ache and play on her conscious. Until, of course, it put her to sleep for a few hours.
"Is it-is it what I think it is?"
Draco didn't look up. "Yes."
"And I have to?"
Draco shrugged. "Only if you're unwilling to face certain consequences."
Hermione bit her lip before downing the contraceptive in a great gulp. Her head began to swim. She shut her eyes immediately, missing the incredible concern that passed across Draco's face. Her stomach knotted, but she resisted the urge to heave. Please let everything work out, Hermione found herself wishing, burying her face in her pillow.
* * *
It had been late afternoon when Hermione had first awakened, but it was well past midnight before her eyes fluttered open again. She felt reasonably dizzy as she struggled into a sitting position, but she did not let the nausea stop her. Draco had left her bedside, probably long before, and the curtains around her bed were still shut. Drawing back her covers, Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her still-injured leg hardly supported her weight, but she forced herself to stand anyway.
"Hello?" Hermione called quietly, clutching the back of the empty chair still sitting next to her bed. No one answered, which prompted her to shuffle the few feet over to the curtains. She peeked through them, only to discover that the hospital wing was equally abandoned.
After ducking between the curtains' folds, Hermione began to wonder whether if she might perhaps be dreaming. She was wearing an old nightgown, white and somewhat lacy, that she wasn't sure if it was actually hers, and her hair fell more smoothly than it usually did. She couldn't figure out why she was so clean when the incident in the chamber had left her so dirty, and she couldn't figure out why the hospital wing was so quiet, or so abandoned.
Her eyes finally adjusting to the dark, Hermione realized that the room wasn't quite as abandoned as she had previously assumed. Several beds down from hers, in the direction of the door, was Ron. The redhead seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and a small figure was curled up in the chair next to him. Realizing it was Anna, Hermione couldn't help but smile. Anna had fallen asleep still holding Ron's hand.
Then, somewhat between Ron's bed and Hermione's on the other side of the room, another area had been curtained off. Already very worried about losing her footing, Hermione clutched the exposed foots of other beds for balance. She took a deep breath, glancing around before slipping between these other curtains.
Sure enough, she had reached his bedside. "Harry," Hermione whispered fearfully as she treated closer. He was rather pale, whiter even than the sheets, she wasn't used to this. Had she looked like he did all those times it had been her in his position? Had it torn him up as much inside as it did her?
Hermione stepped closer, her eyes adjusting finally to how much darker it was behind these curtains. A few tears
slipped down her cheeks as she reached out to Harry.
Several dials spun and sprung and glowed above his head, and he had a black ring around one eye and a large bandage on
the opposite cheek. One of his hands lie across his chest, the palm of it wrapped securely just where he had cut
himself, and overall he looked as close to death as he had down in that awful chamber.
Still, what scared her most was the absolute lack of expression on Harry's face. She'd seen him sleeping a number of times, and while she rather liked the half-smile he sometimes wore, she would have settled for something much less pleasant. Any expression at all really, so long as it was something. Without one, it was hard for her to believe he was really alive.
The only thing that Hermione found at Harry's bedside to derive comfort from was the shaggy dog sitting at the foot of his bed. She smiled slightly at the sight of the large, black creature. Having his godfather there had to help Harry's condition. Managing a small smile, Hermione leaned over, kissing Harry's forehead lightly. He didn't even stir, but Hermione found herself backed against the wall with a wand jabbed against her neck seconds. She yelped, and so did the wild-looking man holding out the wand.
"Hermione," said Sirius uncomfortably, chuckling nervously as he quickly pocketed his wand. "I'm so sorry, I thought-"
Hermione held up a hand to stop him, gargling slightly to clear her throat. "It's all right," she said quietly, glancing back at Harry.
Sirius glanced back at Harry as well. Smiling sadly, he hesitated for only a second before embracing Hermione in a downright fatherly way. "Are you okay?" he asked finally, holding her at arm's length.
"Is he?" Hermione replied quietly. The sad smile returned as Sirius led her over to the edge of Harry's bed, where she sat down next to him. She carefully took Harry's bandaged hand in her lap, reaching with her other hand to touch his cheek. She felt Sirius place a hand on her back. "I mean, Draco told-he said... I reckon-"
"Harry's-" Sirius started. He shook his head. "He's out of the woods, I guess. I don't know my healing magic, not the way Madam Pomfrey does or Lily did or even James. But his injuries don't run the risk of killing him, not any longer. Now, it's just waiting to see whether or not he's going to wake up. He might, he might not. There might be head trauma we're not aware of, or brain injury from... well, dying. He might..."
"Not even be Harry when he wakes up," Hermione whispered. "What then?"
Sirius shrugged, but he had a faraway look on his face. "Then-there's actually a place, in the country... you know, where I could take him. It belonged to an uncle of mine. We've been using it as headquarters, but I'm sure Dumbledore-" he broke off. "That's probably not what you meant."
But even Hermione wasn't sure what she meant. This time, when she leaned over Harry to kiss his forehead, tears slipped onto his face. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be," said Sirius, and she was only vaguely aware of what was happening as he extracted Harry's hand from hers and helped her off the bed. He had guided her away from the curtains and across the ward in the direction of Madam Pomfrey's office before she really knew what was happening.
"You warned us," said Hermione desperately. "Told us not to pursue the Ten Smokes of Brilliance and the origin of every other thing that had anything to do with-"
"Which is practically telling a teenager to have at," said Sirius gruffly. He knocked heavily on the office door, which swung open on the third knock.
"Miss Granger!" the school nurse hissed, completely ignoring Sirius and grabbing the girls' hands. She tried to guide Hermione back to her bed at once, but Sirius caught her shoulder to stop her. He cleared his throat, which only caused the mediwitch to glare at him. "She's weak."
"You check on Harry while I talk to her in your office," said Sirius.
Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "She needs to rest, Mr. Black," she said pointedly.
"She's not going to be able to rest if she doesn't get some answers," said Sirius.
"But getting answers isn't going to guarantee she'll be able to rest," the school nurse snapped, though she did manage a kindly smile for her patient. "Hermione, dear, let's get you back to bed."
Sirius sighed as he trotted towards Madam Pomfrey and Hermione. "Hermione, feel free to jump in any time here," he said. He turned to the mediwitch again. "Please check on Harry?"
Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Hermione?" she prompted. "Do you feel up to talking to the escaped convict that insists on transforming every five minutes into a large, disgusting dog that sheds everywhere?"
"Yes?" Hermione said, after a moment's hesitation.
The mediwitch just threw her hands up, passing Hermione to Sirius before heading off in Harry's direction. Sirius just shook his head as he helped Hermione into the nurse's office. He conjured a rather comfortable chair for her to sit but just leaned against Madam Pomfrey's desk himself.
"Don't you want-" Hermione started, gesturing in the direction of Madam Pomfrey's desk chair.
"No," said Sirius shortly. He cast an illuminating charm, giving Hermione her first good look at him in months. When he had talked to her and Ron in the early morning hours of November the first, he had finally traded in his shaggy Azkaban-issue robes for some much cleaner. When he had talked to her and Harry over the spring holidays, the clean robes from Halloween had grown quite tattered. Now, he was wearing Muggle clothing but looked quite tidy. "So how are you feeling?"
"You already asked me," said Hermione, managing a small smile.
"I asked if you were okay," Sirius corrected, returning the smile. "And you asked if Harry was. But really-how are you holding up?"
"I've scarcely been awake since... everything," said Hermione vaguely, which earned her a stern look from Sirius. "I... the nausea is starting to subside."
Sirius exhaled slowly. "You haven't had it easy, have you?"
Hermione just shrugged. "How is he?"
"He's-like I said, there might be... he might not be the same," said Sirius. "He might not remember anything, or he might... there's a natural order that's been altered, and there's not a lot to say what might happen as a result. This doesn't happen often."
"So it's entirely possible Harry's some sort of..." Hermione's lip trembled.
"Invalid?" Sirius supplied. He gathered his long hair back in one of his hands, not looking at her. "There was something similar that happened during the last war, if I recall. A man lost it after Death Eaters murdered his wife, and his energy killed them and revived her. She's severely brain damaged."
"God," Hermione found herself muttering, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. "And when Draco described what had happened, I thought of electricity and heart paddles."
"Muggle reference?" asked Sirius.
"Going to be lost on you?" Hermione asked, and Sirius only nodded. "Do... do you know anything about Ron?"
"Molly and Arthur are here," said Sirius, "and the twins and Ginny, of course, and the Clemens girl. He woke up late in the afternoon and seemed-" Harry's godfather stopped short, worrying Hermione tremendously.
"But he..." Hermione started. "He's all right, isn't he? He has to be! I mean, he looks-"
"He was laughing and joking and seemed all right, but..." Sirius had looked down, folding his arms across his chest. "You saw the amulets above his bed?" Hermione shook his head. "Voldemort... tried to bend time. It worked only temporarily, but it still forced Ron to take multiple Stunners in a very short period of time. Combined with the snap forward from the energy-he'll have to have a charm put in to keep his heart working properly."
"Voldemort should have known better than to mess with me," Hermione found herself saying. "If this is how I treat my friends, he should have known how it would end for him."
"Hermione..."
"I made them go down there," Hermione said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I know you've talked to Draco. You have to know that I insisted we go down there that very night. I lead both of them to that."
"Hermione, you saved the lives of the five or six hundred wizards here that would have refused to join Voldemort's circle when he stormed the castle. Had you not insisted..." Sirius shook his head.
"Then I should have hung back while he went down there," said Hermione. "Maybe Harry wouldn't have ended up dead had he not been so worried about taking care of me."
"Or maybe Harry would have stayed dead because he wouldn't have had anything to fight for down there," said Sirius shortly. "Hermione, it hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet. Harry's... more alive than we anticipated. Maybe..."
Hermione shivered, hugging herself. "Maybe he'll be all right."
Sirius smiled before conjuring a blanket for her. "Good girl," he said. "Now..."
"Now what?"
"Remus, Dumbledore, and I were able to search the Voldemort's lair beneath the lake while Snape and Pomfrey tended to the three of you. The Death Eaters intended to raid Hogwarts shortly before lunch yesterday morning. They intended to kill all the professors, all the Muggle-borns, and any half-blood with linage less than three pure generations. Everyone else would have had to choice between service and death. There were lists, charts, blueprints, every sort of plan. You three saved hundreds of lives, let alone what you saved in protecting the school and castle.
"We've gained insight on Dark organization in the past weeks and months as well as reestablished links that we lost when Bom was removed from office. We know names that we didn't know before, and Voldemort-"
Hermione bit her lip. Her tone rising, she said, "He must not be gone. Everything else wouldn't matter other-"
"He was thrown backwards against the temporal time fold he bent to contain you in the first place, snapping his secondary magical ability temporarily, rendering him powerless long enough that your acquired energy bent him into a forward dimension," said Sirius pointedly. He surveyed her for a second, and his face suddenly broke into a grin. "You have to be the only fifth year to ever understand that."
The room had started to darken, but Hermione still just shrugged. "He used a time-altering spell to turn time back to keep us in the room without disrupting what had already happened. When my powers returned, the flow of magic in the room eventually sent him forward in time. In other words... our reality with catch up to his eventually."
Sirius recast the dimming charm. "You bought the Order anywhere from two weeks to four months at a time when we needed it the most." He pushed against the desk he had been leaning against, crossing the room to help her out of the chair. "There are... some other things."
"Like?" Hermione prompted, wincing as she pushed against the chair's arm to help him help her up.
"We found Viktor Krum down there, locked in Vihar's closet, keeping him much like Crouch kept Moody all last year. He's... malnourished and disoriented, but he's been very helpful," said Sirius, guiding her to the door and holding it open for it for her. "We're keeping him downstairs, in the unused quarters next to Snape's. We didn't want him to... to startle you."
"If it would be easier for him to be up here-" said Hermione quietly, but she couldn't bring herself to finish. "Thank you. I don't know if I'm up to seeing him... yet. Someday, maybe."
"Someday," Sirius echoed, which caused Hermione to smile a little. They seemed to have focused quite often on the maybes. "But... Hermione, there's something else. Someone else. Someone else that came back when you brought Harry back."
They were at her bedside now, and Sirius helped her kindly back into her bed, adjusting the blanket he had conjured for her on top of the ones already there. Hermione looked up at him, her brow furrowed. "Who?"
"Vihar," said Sirius, looking away.
"Oh," said Hermione. She swallowed hard. "And... w-where are you keeping him?"
Sirius had removed his wand from his pocket and began twisting it around his fingers. "Dumbledore... I've never see him so angry."
"Oh," Hermione said again.
"The Headmaster took care of him, Hermione," said Sirius quietly. "Vihar's dead."
* * *
Two days later, Hermione's condition had improved tremendously. Able to walk without aid and not as prone to nausea and exhaustion, Friday morning found her sitting at the edge of her bed, Anna brushing her hair for her. Showering and dressing by herself for the first time all week had her feeling slightly better, although the activity had made her realize that her broken wrist had not been entirely healed. Madam Pomfrey had wrapped it for her straightaway, and it had prevented Hermione from dealing with her hair.
"You know," said Anna, "your hair really is more curly than straight. If you brushed it less and-" she cast a glance upward as though searching for the right word "-scrunched it more, it probably wouldn't look so..."
"Bushy?" Ron suggested, propped up against his pillows several beds away. Both girls whirled around, glaring at him. He sunk quickly beneath the sheets, Ginny giggling from where she sat at the foot of his bed. "Sorry, sorry," he said quickly, though beneath his breath he continued muttered. "Heart rattles more now than it beats, and I still can't catch a break."
"Honey, please," Anna reprimanded quietly, and Ron piped down right away. Hermione kept her head turned just long enough to see Ginny glance away before looking forward. Things were improving for her, in terms of physical condition at least, but the forty-eight hours that had passed since her predawn talk with Sirius had done little to make everything right. Harry was still in a state she would have liked not to think about, and the awkwardness that had just passed had much to do with Ron and Anna's loud fight the day before.
"Sorry babe," said Ron gruffly. Hermione felt Anna stop braiding her hair long enough to glance back at him, but then the Ravenclaw finished the two plaits and tied them off with ribbons. Anna gave her a quick smile as she scooted off the bed. Ginny left Ron's bed to return to Hermione as the other redheaded girl curled up next to him.
On Wednesday morning, while she had still been asleep (probably from a sleeping charm, as she was sure Sirius had cast one), Madam Pomfrey had apparently carted Ron off to a different part of the ward to insert the talisman Sirius had mentioned. By the time Hermione had woken up, around ten thirty that morning, the hospital wing had gone from incredibly surreal to horribly depressed. There had been some sort of complication, two very long hours, and a very solemn group of redheads, as well as Hermione, Sirius, and Lupin.
In the end, Ron had pulled through, but there were certain images of that morning Hermione would never forget. For the better part of the first hour, Mrs. Weasley had tried to retain her composure but finally broke down in awful sobs. Mr. Weasley had led her off into the far corner of the room, staring forward as he tried not to cry himself. Fred and George had been unable to crack even a single joke, and Ginny and Anna had sat quietly with Hermione. Ginny chewed nervously on her hair while Anna twirled one of the many rings she wore around her finger.
The next afternoon, Ron had made several jokes about his condition and prompted his argument with Anna. Hermione had agreed instantly with the Ravenclaw-she also didn't understand how Ron could be so flippant about what had happened to him, though she supposed that was rather his way. Hermione couldn't help but smile as she glanced over at the two. It pleased her to see them getting along again, Anna snuggled against Ron, his arms around her waist and his chin resting on the top of her head. Ginny had also noticed, elbowing Hermione and nodding in their direction before realizing the older girl had already looked.
"Mum's planning their wedding already," Ginny stage-whispered. "Yesterday, when Anna and I were cooking dinner with her and Madam Pomfrey, she was actually talking about whether they'd want you for Maid of Honor or me. I just laughed-obviously you."
"Hey," Hermione protested weakly. She had turned around on the bed, now sitting cross-legged and facing Ron and Anna. "And aren't the two of you supposed to be protesting as well?"
Ron shrugged as Anna did her best to glance up and gage his reaction. Neither of them, however, said anything.
"Boys, commitment," said Ginny, flopping onto her stomach on Hermione's bed. "You're supposed to be afraid of it?" When her brother shrugged again, she rolled her eyes. "Harrumph," she muttered. "It'll be up to you, Anna, but you're rather closer to Hermione as it is, and besides, it'll be Matron, not Maid, with Harry as-"
Ginny broke off, and all four friends looked away. For the last two days, they had done their best to avoid Harry in their conversation and had so far managed. Even as Hermione had broken away from the other three each of the last two afternoons to relieve Sirius at Harry's bedside, they had done well to not mention him. It was a horrible, unspoken decision, and Hermione knew it, but it had done her well over the last few days. She wasn't sure if she would have gotten through the last forty-eight hours without having made it, simply for the feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach in the last few minutes. She shouldn't have been joking with Ginny and Anna. She should have been joking with Harry and Ron.
Hermione slid off the bed seconds later. "Sirius might need a break," she said, walking around Ginny toward the back of the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had moved Harry to one of the far beds the night before in an attempt to get the four of them talking more. It was the only time she could recall the mediwitch actually encouraging conversation and laughter under her watch.
"Hermione, wait," said Ginny, sliding off the bed to follow the older girl. "I didn't mean to-"
"Someone had to say his name eventually," said Hermione, slipping between the curtains, leaving Ginny on the other side. She closed her eyes for a second, listening to Ginny retreat in Ron and Anna's direction. The youngest Weasley hadn't much choice-Madam Pomfrey had scarcely allowed Hermione to sit at Harry's bedside over the last two days. When Hermione had entered his area the day before, the mediwitch had only stopped yelling when Sirius started. The nurse's compromise was all about keeping her ward quiet.
Sirius, as Padfoot, was waiting for her on the curtains. Even though charms had been set up around the hospital wing to disorient students and have them head to Snape for help, Dumbledore did not want Sirius taking any chances. He quickly changed from his Animagus form, conjuring up a chair for Hermione. She sat right down, dropping her elbows to her knees and her face in her hands. She probably could have pulled up her own chair, but she hadn't done magic since that night in the chamber and wasn't sure if she was prepared to start again.
"Wedding talk is supposed to be happy," said Sirius gently, "even if it is very much hypothetical and-I hope-way into the future."
"But it's not okay," said Hermione, her voice muffled. "It's not right to laugh and joke that way with Harry... is it okay? I'm not... I d-don't..."
"You're asking the wrong person for permission," said Sirius. "Remus has lessons to teach, and I have responsibilities and Order obligations. It's killing him to see Harry like this as well, but he somehow manages to function. He's telling me that I have to do the same, but... you don't see me leaving very often, do you?"
"You and I do seem to enjoy the self-flagellation," said Hermione, finally unburying her face. She looked up at Sirius with teary eyes. He had, sometime when she wasn't looking, removed a tattered piece of parchment. He turned it over in his hands, several times, before replacing it in his pocket. "Any change?"
"Some of the readouts from the talismans were actually up yesterday," said Sirius, "after you were in here all afternoon. He must have known you were here."
Hermione scooted her chair closer to Harry's bedside, taking his hand in hers and brushing his hair back gently from her forehead despite the tinge in her injured wrist. She glanced up at the former prisoner of Azkaban Fortress. "Do you believe that?"
Sirius conjured up a second chair for himself. While in his Animagus form, he usually just curled up at the foot of Harry's bed or paced its perimeter, and without occupants, the created chairs had a tendency to dissolve over time. He, too, scooted towards his godson's bedside. "I reckon it's more important that you do."
Because Hermione did not know how to respond to that, she only asked, "What was on that slip of parchment you just looked at?"
"Message from Dumbledore," said Sirius after a moment's hesitation. "Something for me to do for the Order."
"Hmm," Hermione muttered. Her curiosity finally getting the better of her, she found herself blurting, "Is Dumbledore ever going to tell us more about the illustrious Order of the Phoenix, or are we going to have to take what we will from your vague allusions?"
Surprisingly, Sirius chuckled. "He'd prefer only having to say everything once."
Hermione cocked her head in Sirius's direction. "When Harry wakes up."
"When Harry wakes up," Sirius repeated. "He has shown significant improvement in the last few days, since you've been sitting with him at the very least."
"I don't know how I feel about all this pressure," said Hermione, biting her lip. "If I saved him from death, it's only because he saved me a hundred times before. I don't know how to bring him back, Sirius, though I feel as if I should."
"Hermione..." Sirius sighed. "Hermione, whatever happens to Harry, it's not your fault. I'm sure you've heard that so frequently in the last few days you've rather tired of it, but it's true. I'd tell you not to blame yourself or not to regret it because you ultimately did so much good, but that would be rather hypocritical to me. James... James and Lily, I'll never forgive myself for allowing Peter to betray them, but almost fifteen years after the fact I've finally realized that I could never have known."
"Is this the kind of advice meant to help me sleep at night?" Hermione wanted to know.
"It only helps me get through every day I see Harry," said Sirius after some hesitation. "You aren't sleeping any better, are you?"
Hermione bit her lip. "But it's not just Harry," she said weakly.
"I imagine not," said Sirius at last. He stood. "Would you like a few minutes alone with him?"
"Do you talk to him when it's just the two of you?" Hermione blurted. Sirius nodded. Feeling slightly less crazy for her desire to talk to Harry, she made a small request. "I-if you wouldn't mind, I'd rather enjoy a few minutes."
Sirius wordlessly became Padfoot and bounded between the curtains. Hermione felt the start of fresh tears down her cheeks as she watched Harry's godfather depart. She knew also that she shouldn't be looking for justification, but she found herself oddly comforted by the fact that Sirius also talked to Harry's unconscious form. Lifting his hand to her cheek, she gave him her best attempt at a smile.
"Hey sweetheart," Hermione said quietly. "It's Friday morning, if you were wondering-three whole days, though it rather feels like much longer. Madam Pomfrey let me get up this morning and shower, and though she had to wrap my wrist afterwards, I think she'll release me later this afternoon. Ron's much better as well, his heart talisman's regulating as it should, and he'll probably get to leave at the end of the weekend." She had to pause, setting his hand down so she could wipe her eyes. "And Sirius tells me you're also improving.
"God, Harry. I feel so stupid just rambling. I would like to think you can hear me, but that horribly logical part of me tells me that it's ridiculous to think so. I just wish that there was something else I could do. Something, anything. I need you, Harry. So many other people do as well-Ron, Sirius, Professor Lupin. And I know that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley aren't lingering anymore just for Ron.
"Everyone out there seems to care about me as well, which confuses me because I can't help but feel responsible for what's happened to you. If you'd been... I don't know, but if it wasn't me, I wouldn't have been able to forgive whoever it had been. I kept getting told that I couldn't have known and couldn't have changed things, but I'd rather like a chance to try. But-" Hermione broke off, taking a shuddering breath "-but there's something I think I can finally say. Thank you, for what you did for me, and Ron, and everyone, really. Thank you for believing me, for protecting me, for saving me. It's hard for me to thank you because I'd switch places with you in an instant if I could, but that's apparently your line to me when I'm lying where you are."
Hermione leaned forward, kissing his cheek. She lowered her voice, her breath catching. "If you don't wake up or wake up completely different, Sirius would still assume responsibility for you in a second. He talks about taking you to live with him at Order headquarters, but there's something that scares me about the faraway look he gets whenever he mentions it. I think we both know it's nothing more than a nice fantasy. There's no way the Light side could protect you if you couldn't protect yourself, and they'd never allow..."
But it was another realization too awful to voice. Hermione kissed him, this time on the mouth rather than the cheek, wondering every time now if it would be for the last time. "I-I reckon I'd force myself to keep going, but I can't even imagine what it would be like without you. I'd try, for you, but... I need you, honey. I love you so much." She stood up, starting to take his hand with her before realizing that it just wasn't work. Instead, she touched it to her cheek again. "Come back to me, Harry."
Hermione slipped quietly back through the curtains, realizing that the rest of the hospital wing had grown rather quiet in her absence. She glanced around, noticing at once that Ginny had since cleared the wing. She wiped at her watery eyes with the back of her hand as she padded towards Ron and Anna. Before she had passed her own bed, Anna had extracted herself from Ron to summon chairs from the across the room.
"Thanks," said Hermione quietly, taking a seat. "Did Ginny decide to go to class?"
"She does have Potions this morning, but she was planning to skive off before... well, you know," Ron finished vaguely. Anna had rejoined him on the bed, this time, however, at the foot of it. Hermione had noticed this about them-especially when she was their only other company, the young couple tried not to be overly-affectionate with one another. "How is he?"
"No real change," Hermione said with a sigh. "Sirius seems to think he's improving. That's what all the amulets and talismans seem to be saying, but I'm trying not to get my hopes up until he opens his eyes and can rattle off his name, birthday, favorite color, house, and the date we first kissed."
Ron glanced at Anna. "October twelfth," he said automatically, "for us, anyway."
Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly, especially when Anna blushed. "I thought it was a good test of cognitive process."
"How are you doing?" Anna then asked, directing her question at Hermione. Her eyes shone with genuine concern, and Hermione felt herself relax slightly. Anna, after all, had only stopped wearing the same worn expression as Hermione a few hours earlier.
"I just wish I knew more," said Hermione heavily, casting a look over her shoulder in the direction of Harry's area. She wasn't sure if Sirius had returned to his bedside yet, and she had to overcome the urge to check. She didn't really want Harry left alone. "What about you, Anna? Don't you have Potions with Ginny?"
"We're only reviewing for end-of-term exams," said Anna with a shrug. "I'll probably drop into Defense this afternoon, but other than that, I feel rather confident. Ron's siblings and I are all pretty much excused from our lessons until next week so long as we're in here with one of you."
"Mum and Dad have been making Fred, George, and Ginny go to classes," Ron added, "but they really can't say much to Anna. Fred and George tried to convince them that there was rather little point, since they've all but graduated, but Mum seems to think it reflects poorly on her and Dad if they encourage skiving."
Hermione shuddered slightly. "I'm glad most fifth year classes aren't even meeting this late in the term."
"You know," Ron said slyly, "because it would kill you to miss a lesson."
"Ron," said Anna warningly, swatting at his arm. Ron caught her hand and held it as the Ravenclaw turned back to Hermione. "Have they let you know anymore about O.W.L.s, Hermione?"
Hermione felt her stomach sink a little, though she had been thinking the same thing. Although it was obvious that Dumbledore and the other Hogwarts professors were keeping what transpired in the chamber as quiet as possible, they had been required to tell the Ministry that Hermione had regained her powers. Barker had first accused Dumbledore of telling stories, but then he had demanded that Hermione arrive promptly at the Ministry at nine o'clock Monday morning to sit all portions of her O.W.L.s again.
"They're even making me repeat the written portions of the test," Hermione muttered, shaking her head. "I just can't believe that they're more worried about administering standardized tests than responding to Voldemort's activity."
"That's Barker," Ron grumbled. "Get used to it. If Dumbledore manages to get anything out about how close Hogwarts came to attack, then he'll have The Daily Prophet discredit him so quickly you wouldn't believe. Dad's worried Barker might even try to remove Dumbledore as headmaster."
"Great," Hermione muttered. "It's nice to know that people appreciate what-" She broke off when something crashed loudly to the floor. On her feet in seconds, Hermione peered anxiously to the curtains surrounding Harry's bedside. Ron had grabbed for his wand, which had been sitting on his bedside table, and Anna had hers at the ready as well. Taking a cautious step forward, Hermione called, "Sirius?"
No answer. Suddenly very worried that someone had somehow gotten into the hospital wing and done something to Harry, Hermione would have charged forward completely ill-prepared if Ron had not grabbed a handful of her jumper. There was another loud crash, and the curtains swung precariously from their rails. A loud whistling sound only added to the commotion.
"Hermione?"
The fabric parted, and a skinny figure with messy black hair and bright green eyes emerged. Hermione could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. "Harry?" she whispered, taking another step forward. She did not get far before she was sure her heart stopped altogether. Harry pitched forward and did not get back up after falling.
* * *
After expressing her continued interest in medical magic and desire to study under Madam Pomfrey over the next two years, Hermione found herself learning to properly dress abdominal wounds. The mediwitch had used both magic and Muggle medicine to heal Harry, and when the Gryffindor had attempted to leave his bed, he had pulled more than half the stitches in his stomach by standing, and falling. As Harry groaned, Hermione shot him an apologetic smile, trying not to apply so much pressure to the injured area.
"No, Hermione," said Madam Pomfrey at once. "I know you don't want to hurt him, but you're going to have to if you want to help him." She clicked her tongue impatiently after inserting a long needle into the crook of Harry's arm. Attached to a long, thin tube, she waited for the dials on one of the wall talismans to start spinning. "Now have we learned anything about attempting to get out of bed when one has internal injuries and a very useless leg, Mr. Potter?"
"Not... to... do it... again," Harry said, through gritted teeth. As Hermione pushed slightly harder against the magical stitching pad on his stomach, she took his free hand in hers, hoping that he would know she wasn't trying to hurt him. Having chosen that moment to look away because Madam Pomfrey had taken out yet another needle to poke into him, he caught her eye. "You're okay," he mouthed.
"And I'm going to hope you won't," said Madam Pomfrey. She lifted her nose slightly as she gave Hermione a critical glance. "There you go, Hermione. Another thirty seconds or so and the stitches will have taken, and you can cover them then. I'm going to-"
"How much longer?" an impatient voice called from the other side of the curtain. Sirius, who had slunk out of the hospital wing in Animagus form to get something to eat, had missed his godson waking up. The mediwitch had not allowed him to see Harry yet, which had him rather agitated.
Madam Pomfrey's eyes flashed. "After I shut that annoying man up, I'm going to retrieve some potions from my cabinets. Hermione, go ahead and finish patching Mr. Potter's one wound, and keep an eye on those dials. If anything starts whistling..." The mediwitch waged her finger at the two teenagers as she slipped between the curtains. The first thing they heard her do was cast a silencing charm, but Harry and Hermione could still hear whispers of her and Sirius's argument.
"O-okay," said Hermione cautiously as she peeled the pad away from Harry's skin. She surveyed the thick pink lines that had closed his wound for a few seconds before tossing the bloody rag. Giving his hand a final squeeze, she reached for one of the healing solutions Madam Pomfrey had left her. "I know one of these is supposed to sting," said Hermione apologetically, dabbing some of the cream onto Harry's stomach. When he grimaced, she did as well. "I guess it's that one."
"It's not so bad," said Harry at once, but she knew he was lying because he had attempted then to wiggle away from her. After she arched an eyebrow, he admitted. "Yes it is, but..." he trailed off. "Madam Pomfrey's let you help take care of me?"
"Before today there wasn't a lot of taking care of you, at least not on this level," said Hermione honestly, deciding he deserved the look she gave him for the scare he had given her. "Everything was going fine until you decided you needed to... whatever you decided you needed to do. Honestly, Harry... the charms taped to your hand and the needles stuck in your arm didn't give you the slightest hint to stay in bed? And your leg?"
"I didn't know that the bone had been dusted," said Harry defensively. "And... I... it's not like I even know what happened now."
Hermione stopped what she was doing for just long enough to study his face. Lying flat on his back in the hospital bed, his shirt unbuttoned and right pant leg cut to above the knee, he looked rather miserable, and her heart went out to him. "And you're waiting for me to jump in at any time to fill you in, aren't you?"
"Pretty much," said Harry, managing a grin that made her smile as well. "We... the two of us... we aren't still fighting, are we? Not that we really were, but the last thing I remember is trying to talk you out of letting Anna break your memory charm."
"That smile gets you rather farther than it really should," Hermione remarked, finally lying clean gauze against Harry's abdomen. "No, we weren't really fighting then," she said, though she neglected to mention that they had been later that very evening. "We met Ron and Anna in these creepy old dormitories beneath the existing Ravenclaw dormitories, and breaking the memory charm... well, it went as smoothly as that sort of thing can."
"Is this going to be one of those stories where I really don't want to know when things stopped going so smoothly?" Harry asked. Hermione eyed him critically, pressing the last piece of Magi-Med tape to his skin. She bent down to kiss his forehead, but he had caught on and lifted his head so that she would actually kiss him.
"Probably," Hermione said after a moment's pause. "Here, let me help you with your shirt."
Harry at first didn't seem to want her help, but it didn't take him long to realize that he really wasn't capable of doing much for himself. Hermione could feel his intense eyes on her as she slid the last button through the last button hole. It scared her slightly, how much he seemed to trust her, even though it couldn't have been half as much as she trusted him.
"What then?" Harry wanted to know. "What did we find out?"
"There was... a chamber," said Hermione after a moment's pause. "Beneath the lake. That's where I had been taken that night in February. I-I had the oddest urgent feeling about it, and I insisted that-" she bit her lip "-maybe someone else should tell you all this."
Harry groaned, frustrated this time rather than in pain. "If it was anyone else suggesting that..." he started, grabbing her hand. "Just tell me... whatever we found down there... whoever must have done all this to me... definitely someone much larger and more powerful than myself?"
Hermione couldn't stop the tears from coming at the earnest look he gave her. "Oh Harry," she said touching his cheek. "I was so..."
"Harry?"
Both teenagers at once looked up as Sirius slipped between the curtains. Hermione pulled her hand back from Harry's face at once, pleased at least to see him smile at the sight of his godfather. She quickly slipped off the edge of the bed so that Sirius could catch Harry in a very careful embrace. There were tears in the older wizard's eyes that he was obviously trying to keep from his godson.
"Merlin," Sirius had whispered. "Thank Merlin."
"How are you?" Harry wanted to know. "Have you been here long? What's-"
As Sirius sat down in one of the bedside chairs, Hermione returned to her perch at the edge of Harry's bed. Brushing back Harry's messy hair, she caught Sirius's eye before interrupting, "Honey, I reckon Sirius isn't supposed to be in here on Madam Pomfrey's watch, and while he is, I think he'd rather like to know how you're feeling. He's scarcely left your side since-"
"How long have I been here?" Harry interjected. Hermione and Sirius exchanged a look. "Not more than..."
"Three days," said Hermione quickly. "Not just long, just..."
"Three days," Harry repeated. He glanced away. "Wow."
"It's not like-" Hermione started, but she was interrupted by the curtains parting. Wearing a very stern expression, Madam Pomfrey bustled in, glaring quite a lot at Harry's godfather.
"And I could have sworn that I told you to stay out in the meantime," the nurse muttered. She glared at Sirius until he shrugged out of her way. His arms folded defiantly across his chest, however, he hung to the shadows rather than leaving entirely. "How's he looking, dear?"
Hermione at first didn't realize that the mediwitch was talking to her. "Oh!" she said at last. "He's-"
"Now that you're awake, Potter, we might as well proceed with treatment for your leg," said Madam Pomfrey briskly, never once minding Hermione. She did, at least, beckon the girl to her side as she produced several downright Muggle-looking gadgets. For the next few minutes, no one could get a word in edgewise as she gave Hermione one instruction after another. Even Harry and Sirius could only shrug helplessly across the room at one another.
A few bandages, potions, and adjustments later, Madam Pomfrey had decided that one of Harry's two visitors had to go. Because Hermione was still technically under her care, the mediwitch had chosen her to leave. Hermione had shot him a sad smile as the older witch led her away, and currently Harry was watching the curtains sway from their departure. It wasn't that he didn't want Sirius's company, but he just hadn't wanted to see her go.
"So..." said Sirius slowly, scooting onto the edge of Harry's bed, careful not to nudge the shiny metal tube that Madam Pomfrey had clamped around his injured leg.
"So she doesn't look like she's had it easy," Harry started. "What happened in that chamber? Hermione... she looks like she hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, hasn't-" he swallowed hard. "She doesn't even look like she's smiled, Sirius. And her wrist is bandaged and she's limping slightly and she has that black eye and she's-"
"You really haven't taken a good look at yourself yet, have you, Harry?" Sirius interjected, chuckling slightly. "Though I should have known-every time I ask how she's doing this week, she's turned it around and asked about you."
Harry folded his arms across his chest, cautiously as not to disturb any of the devices attached to him. "What happened to her, Sirius?" he demanded.
"Worry," said Sirius, matching his godson's stance. "She's been worried about you. She's been so afraid of losing you that she wouldn't sleep in case your condition changed overnight, that she wouldn't eat because she didn't want to move on when you couldn't, that she wouldn't stop crying because she blamed herself for your condition."
"Oh," Harry found himself mumbling.
Sirius cringed at once. "Harry, I didn't mean-"
"I know," Harry interrupted. "Everything's so confusing right now, Sirius, and I don't know if it's going to get better even after it all gets explains to me."
After a moment's hesitation, Sirius nodded. "After Ron's girlfriend broke the memory charm on Hermione..." he began, and for the next forty-five minutes, he recounted every detail of the trio's experience he had been made aware of. Only in the story's last moments did he reduce it to a kind of sketch.
Sirius finished, "...and Voldemort's charm killed you. Ron was with you when you died, and Hermione was even holding your hand. You... you somehow transferred your powers to her in those last few moments, and she went on to fight Voldemort with that magic. Ron had been Stunned again at that point, so it was just the two of them. Hermione, I don't think, even remembers exactly what happened. But... she sent Voldemort somewhere forward in time."
"Which she was able to do because he had earlier bent time to keep us in that room," said Harry, breaking in for the first time in several minutes. "How did you all reach us?"
"The Malfoy boy," said Sirius. "He and Hermione... remained linked even when the bond that had been forced on her by Vihar had since broken. He headed for the castle at the first sign of trouble and... and in the end allowed the headmaster and other professors to reach you in time."
Harry nodded slowly, wondering if he would ever be able to accept that Malfoy had saved his life-which, of course, begged the question of his life in the first place. "There's... one thing I'm not getting," he said at last. "You keep saying that I died, Sirius. If I'm so dead, why do I feel... somewhat alive? You know, outside of the pangs and pains I'd only expect after... I'm not sure, getting hit by the Knight Bus?"
Sirius chuckled, maybe more than he should have. "Don't talk about the Knight Bus like that," he said finally, laughter in his eyes for the first time Harry had ever seen. "You actually had a great-uncle that was run over by that purple monstrosity."
"Really-" Harry startled, but then he scowled. "Why am I not dead, Sirius?"
"Hermione."
"Hermione," repeated Harry. He suddenly had his first substantial image of the evening. His body prickled as he remembered the numbness that had passed through him, and the unexpected warmth. That was when she had squeezed his hand, and when he must have transferred his energy to her. "Hermione... I had to come back to her."
Sirius's brow furrowed. "I... suppose. The energy she released was what brought you back, Harry. The magic that caused Voldemort to disappear was so great that it revived you."
But Harry wasn't listening, not entirely at least. "I came back to her," he whispered. Realizing that Sirius was still glancing at him with the same peculiar expression, he quickly cleared his throat. "So... how's Ron? And where's Voldemort? And-" the last one had dawned quite suddenly on him "-I'm still magical too, right?"
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Author's Note, 10/31/04: And we're caught up on Portkey to what had been on ff.net before I got booted. Thanks so much to everyone's that reviewed. One chapter to go! I hoped to have it posted by Halloween, but then life happened. Baaaad life. But I'll be working on it whenever I can in the next few days, so hopefully soon.
But below you will find the summary for my year six fic. Which you'll all read, right?
You guys are the best.
Elle
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Harry Potter and the Eagle's Sapphire, Year 6:
Failing marks are the least of Harry's worries after arriving at Hogwarts for his sixth year. Still recovering from his last confrontation with the Dark Lord Voldemort, he can scarcely handle the intensive defense training he is thrown into just hours after stepping off the Hogwarts Express. Hermione's unwillingness to deal with the events of the year before has her and Harry's relationship at a standstill while another relationship progresses much too quickly. Working with Draco proves more challenging than working against him, and there's a third-year causing more trouble than even the Weasley twins ever managed. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor just wants to be everyone's friend, and members of one Hogwarts house seem to draw Harry into uneasy alliance after uneasy alliance. Outside of the castle, Voldemort's attacks on Muggle towns grow bolder with each passing day, to the point that the corrupt wizarding government cannot maintain even the slightest sense of order.
Yet the war brewing between Dark and Light is nothing compared to the war Harry is waging within. By day, Harry struggles to understand the blood burden he bears. By night, he dreams of the life he was meant to have. It's torment unlike the Boy-Who-Lived has ever known, and it's torment he's ill-prepared to handle. He can't forget about everything, no matter how much he wants to.
Because while the fate of the wizarding world might lie in the usual hands, its destruction lies in those long-forgotten.
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