Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

Author Note: I have to say that, first and foremost, the reviews really keep me going. I love having a chance to see everyone's insights and responses! I was going to wait for Thursday to release the chapter, but this chapter was a long time coming. I went rather OCD on this one, making sure and doubly sure I had wanted to express exactly what I wanted to express. You know, it's almost frightening how much I've become invested in this fic, the plot, and the characters. Still got a while to go, though; that is, if I don't get inspired in the middle of something like I did with Seamus or my Muse packs up and leaves for holiday on me. Also, I turned 23 yesterday-awesome.

***

Chapter Eleven ~ Beseech

Slowly, I trudged forward in my bereaved state. I felt like my feet stepped through mud, the mud hardening; or thick pudding, or far below the ocean currents. I couldn't breathe, and what I did take in felt like I digested pure, white-hot fire. The aftertaste of my vomit clung to my mouth, and I wrenched.

I didn't know where I was going. All I knew is that I had to get through those double-doors. I had to get to Hermione. The physicians that were around me, running with clipboards or nurses in tow, hadn't even stopped me. My hands were on the doors to the emergency room. I glanced from my right, and then to my left, looking behind me at the security guards who didn't seem to notice my blatant entering. I was in plain sight of them. Why weren't they coming? Who cares. I turned my face, my focus in front of me, and nearly busted the door down with my strength and fury.

I ran, the sticky, gluey feeling of my legs keeping me in an incessant wobble. Down one long stretch of white lights and floor, and down another. Another. Another. Another. I looked into each room through an adjacent window. Strangers. Everywhere. I couldn't find Hermione. I couldn't find where they took her, and fear crept further into my mind. I began to think she died. I saw her dying. I saw her death. Hermione, dead, in my arms. I saw her eyes, her body, and her soul leaving me in this utterly dark, dank, destructive world. The stains on my cheeks were wet again, my tears reapplying the water as I cried. I continued to run, and run, and run, passing more nurses, and doctors, more security that didn't stop my frantic flight.

Until I came to a sudden halt at a window far, far down one lengthy hallway. A bluish hue from all the hospital workers inside made the entire room the colour, seeping out from the pane of glass between me and them. I flew right to the window and I saw her, seeing first her hair, her gorgeous, beautiful mahogany and ginger locks draping from the stretcher dry and in thirst.

I put my face against the glass panel as if that got me closer to my girl lying lifeless. I placed my palms on the cold, clear wall and watched them try to resurrect her limp body. They took a machine, a defibrillator, and revved it up. I heard the machine scream. I couldn't see their mouths, each of them covered in blue masks and blue hats with blue coverings on their clothes. One doctor struck her with the machine, Hermione's little body leaping from the shock. I saw the same doctor try again when he wasn't satisfied, Hermione still not responding.

The heart monitor on the wall, they'd look at it each time to see if she reacted positively. The line would shake when they sent the electric volt, but would fall back straight. The doctor sent another shock to her, placing the pads on her chest and having her flaccid form jump on the table. I watched them repeat, and repeat, and repeat until the doctor became angry, his eyes tired, but wide. He thrust the damned machine into a nurse's hands and began working Hermione with his hands. He pumped her chest, always watching, always keeping an eye on the monitor, keeping her heart in-check.

The others in the room all stared at the doctor. He went crazy, insane, trying his best to get Hermione to survive-to live. The looks on their faces, their eyes, said it all. Hermione wasn't moving. Her heart beat null on the monitor, flat-lining constantly. A nurse came from the other side of the room and embraced the poor doctor. The male doctor wiped the sweat from his brow and shook his head. That was the end. I saw them file out, leaving Hermione alone.

The doctor laid a white sheet over her, from the beginnings of her little Converse shoes to the tops of her hair, and was helped out by the nurse who hugged him. They didn't look at me, or see me, standing there in utter and complete woe, devastation. I couldn't even frown anymore. I had no emotions but anger, resentment, and hate for life. I pounded my hands against the glass. I balled my fists up and struck the window. Water poured from my eyes, and I slid along the window lethargically, listless. There was no more meaning to my life. My soul died. I died. I died right there on the floor along with Hermione. My body lost itself, tumbling over, curling into a fetal position. My eyes closed, and that was it.

You took away the last part that kept me living…

Why…

I remember smiling in the last few moments of breath, thinking of my beloved, my girl, Hermione, wrapped in my arms in a meadow filled with vividly, violet flowers. A waft of flora essence washed over me in a soft breeze. We both wore white, and I could see her glorious ivory, angel wings along her back. The sun shone brightly against an even brighter, cloudless, cerulean sky. We stared at each other for the longest time, her cinnamon-coloured irises never ceasing from me, and she smiled. She lifted from the emerald-green, perfect grass we lay in and placed her warm, pink lips upon mine. Gently, she kissed me. Like a flame to paper, the image burned away from the outside-inward. Darkness approached the meadow, and I walked hand-in-hand with Hermione away from our mortal lives on earth to be with her forever in Heaven.

***

I gasped.

My mouth and nostrils took in a stale, sterile environment. My eyes hadn't open, feeling a hand stroke my face and hair. I thought my nightmare, of Hermione dying, was but a dream. Or, maybe, this was Heaven. Here I was with her, as she ran her fingers as she always had along my cheek and combed my messy hair. I smiled a little, allowing Hermione to continue and rubbed my face in her thigh. I smelled of her, wanting to catch her natural, vanilla scent but became aware of a rich floral aroma instead.

I bunched my face up, my eyebrows scrunched. I felt more aware of my body than ever before, my arm going pins and needles on me as it lay on my side on my weight. Heaven wasn't supposed to involve pain. Any pain. No pain. I moaned, turning my head over and feeling the hand leave me. My ears slowly adjusted to wherever I was, a constant droning noise becoming various call signs and murmurs for doctor this and doctor that:

"Paging Dr. Anderson. Paging Dr. Anderson, please contact the level four desk at extension 44313."

I groaned. My head ached, especially the top near my forehead. How I moved, I faced something bright. I had my eyes closed still, but it shone right through my eyelids. I held my head in one hand, blinking my eyes open and pushed off where I lay with the other. I gazed around in a squint and realized…I was in some sort of waiting room. Chairs filled the little annexed area I was in with random spots filled with others sitting, reading magazines. A television was propped on the wall in a corner playing the New York local news station. A weather report was on showing clouds building throughout the week. Across the top of the screen, the news-people placed a ticker scrolling with the message, "January 1, 2000, 38 degrees Fahrenheit, Sunny".

I went to move, the sound of pulling leather happening under me. I rubbed my head, feeling a bandage over a knot clearly evident by my touch. I glanced down at where I sat and turned my focus to where I lay. If it wasn't Hermione…then…

Ginny sort of smiled at me and did a little wave. Neville sat on a recliner facing us. He held a sports magazine in his hand and only peered from the pages when he saw me moving. He had his legs crossed, but immediately put the leg and foot flat on the floor. He closed the magazine and grinned.

"Good morning, Harry…," Ginny softly said. She seemed tired by her voice, and looked it, dark circles under her eyes.

"Hey…," I tried to smile, but as I did a flood of memories hit me all at once. I saw Hermione falling, I saw her being rushed into the hospital, and I saw her being taken away from me. I went to get up, but Ginny grabbed me and sat me down in the seat.

"Sit!" she ordered in a whisper.

"I have to see her!" I went to get up again, but was dragged backward by my shirt. Ginny was a tough girl, and strong when she needed to be. It didn't help that my knees buckled from exhaustion, and I fell right back on the couch. Some people took notice and stared.

The sun from the blinds behind me felt warm against my back. Ginny scooted over and leaned into me, catching the rectangular pattern of light across her face, making her hair even more of that flaming, Weasley-red. "You won't get anywhere running in there and screaming…"

"Have you seen her?!" My chest heaved. My eyes went from the door of the waiting and back to her several times. I began having a panic attack. I felt closed in, tight, like I had a million safety belts on my body holding me back. "Has the doctor come in?! Have they said anything about what happened?!"

"I'm sure she's fine, Harry…," Neville said in his chair. He shifted to the edge and put the magazine on the table between us. He made an encouraging smile at me and flicked his eyes to Ginny.

Ginny grinned at Neville, and then returned her focus to me. She picked up a plastic cup from in front of her off the table and held it to me. "Here," she urged, setting it in my hand. "It's apple juice. You'll get dehydrated if you don't drink something."

My throat was dry, and so was my tongue. I looked from Ginny to Neville, and back to Ginny. I tilted my head back and drank it all, each sip of the contents, and even let a few dissolving ice chunks slide down my parched throat. I moved my sight down to see her place crackers in my hand, partially wrapped in a torn, plastic six-pack. The kind you'd find in a vending machine.

"Eat!" she demanded. "Before you go hungry, too. You'll get sick if you don't eat."

"What about you guys?" My stomach grumbled on cue, just as I lifted a peanut butter cracker to my mouth. I crunched down on it, bits of the breading crumbling on my shirt.

I wiped the crumbs away to hear Neville say, "Cheese doodles and hot fries."

I glanced up to see Neville pat his stomach, "Can't beat the power of a junk-food breakfast. Wise really knows how to fill a man's belly."

Ginny smiled at her lover, but turned to me and dropped the emotion as she saw my seriousness come to fruition. I looked toward the door, wanting, needing to go to Hermione. I'd probably end up in a straight jacket like a loon, but the wait bordered on insanity. I loved her, damn it, and she's-she's-

"How long has she been in there?" my voice cracked and the end came out in a squeak.

She frowned, and I saw a tear trickle down her cheek. She crawled the small breadth between us on her knees and embraced me around my neck. "Everything's going to be fine…," she tightened her hug. "Everything's going to be just fine, I know it."

"We'll get through this," stated Neville. He kept that encouraging grin of his on me. "Look at everything we've been through and gotten through. We'll get through this, too, man."

He gave a nod, "We will."

"I love you, Harry…," Ginny whispered at the crook of my neck. "And Neville loves you, too. We'll get through it, one baby-step at a time."

I put my arms around Ginny, and I heard her begin to break down near my ear. In her stubbornness, she prevented me from seeing her cry. She hid her face between me and the back of the couch. "Remember…," her vocal stuttered, but she tried to remain firm and calm. "Hermione's a fighter. Remember that, you hear me?"

I just sat there, breathing in, living in Ginny and Neville's affection. Ginny removed from her hiding, and she sniffled, her forehead against my cheek. She rubbed my shoulder and squeezed it. Neville came over to me and sat on the arm rest opposite Ginny. He patted the shoulder she squeezed and gave it a squeeze of his own. I looked up at him, water present in my eyes, my vision blurry. He patted my shoulder again, and I saw a tear stain his cheek. He turned away quickly, not wanting me, a man, his best mate, to see his raw, real emotion.

What a `Happy New Year,' I thought.

I searched for a clock with my eyes and noticed one rotate in the corner of the news broadcast. I made out the time, blinking the fuzziness from my eyesight and realized I'd been out for a good, solid eight hours. I inhaled deep and closed my eyes. I had to take in and digest the fact that I had to wait for the call. I had to wait for the doctor. I had to wait for the green light to go, as much as it killed me. It killed my heart to not to be able to see her in her time of utmost need.

I pushed thoughts into my head to drown out my sadness. I thought of my priorities beside Hermione, who I couldn't get to, sitting at number one. I ran down the list, Ginny and Neville being priorities two and three. I glanced at Ginny, who had her eyes closed, her chin on my shoulder, and asked quietly, "What of the hotel? We only had it for last night…"

"Never you mind that…," she whispered. She stuttered a breath, never opening her eyes. "I have it covered. All's well."

I shuffled into my pocket. Ginny had to back away from me as I used my right arm to get to my wallet. She glanced at my actions, and put her hand on my arm when she saw what I was going after.

"Harry, no-"

I whipped out a few hundred dollar bills and shoved it in her hand, "Just shut up and take it."

"Harry, I-"

Staring into her reddened eyes, I stated unwavering, "Do as I say just this once, please, Gin." I flipped my billfold back together and slipped my wallet back into my jean pocket. I closed my eyes. I let the shine of the sun from the slightly open blinds run along my cheek, and then I slowly stood up.

"Where are you going?" I heard Neville ask, making my way toward the door.

I turned around and looked back, a hand in my jean pocket. The other sifted through the front of my hair and slid into the somewhat oily tufts. I didn't really gaze at them, my focus blurring once more, in-and-out of sight. I shook my head, trying to regain my vision. "I have to call her parents. I have to let them know what's going on. What's happened to her."

Ginny went to get up, "Do you want me to come with you?"

I put my hand out to stop her, and she halted, eyeing me helplessly, "I got it… I think I need to be alone, anyhow. Just for a moment…"

Ginny stared at me as if she didn't believe a word I said.

"I promise," I stated, looking into her brown eyes, golden in the sunlight. "I'll be right back."

"You better, Harry James…," she said meekly, lowering back down on the couch beside Neville.

I simply nodded and took off along the hallway straight ahead of me, my hands in my pockets. I slightly slouched in posture, the weight of the world upon my shoulders. I felt their eyes still watching me as I left them, and I twisted my head around before taking a right down another hallway to see their compassionate eyes locked on me, still watchful, still wondering if their best friend was going to make it all through this.

***

I politely asked a secretary at one of the desks where the closest pay phone was in the hospital. She pointed me down the hallway and told me to make a left at the second door. That'd take me to another waiting room area with a connecting hallway that had a phone. I thanked her and quietly meandered in thought towards the direction.

Actually, I didn't think much. Thinking caused me pain. Thinking wasn't good. Every time I'd begin to think, I began to think up the worst scenarios. My face was low like the slouching of my shoulders. My feet felt heavy each time they'd hit the floor. I tried to picture Hermione waiting for me when I got back to Ginny and Neville, but knew…that wasn't going to happen. I'd have better luck winning the lottery or finding sunken treasure. I knew exactly where she was, or at least my brain processed the possibilities, one of them being alive but worked on by specialists. The other…the other thought was not so good. Hermione in that one…she was…I couldn't bear to think of it, let alone let my mind wander that God-forsaken, dimmed path…

I kicked the back of my heel across the white, squared floor panels. I made a black mark as I came up to the blue-and-white pay phone nestled back in the corner of the hallway the secretary mentioned. I stepped up, and let out a sigh, fondling in my jeans for my wallet. I cracked open the seam and jiggled out what coin I had. I flipped the change in my palm and procured a few quarters for long-distance, really long-distance. I settled my wallet back in my pocket, picked up the black, plastic telephone from the hook and dialed zero.

"This is the operator. How may I direct your call?"

I mumbled off the Granger's phone number, and when asked if this was long-distance, I told the male voice, "Yes."

"It'll be two dollars for the first five minutes, sir, and ten cents after that. Please insert the correct change."

I did as was told, placing one quarter in after the next.

"Thank you," said the operator robotically. "I'm directing your call now."

I heard the dial tone, and then something that sounded like buttons on the other side being pushed. The line went silent, and what I thought was a receiver on the other end was picked up. I heard breathing, and then I heard a voice. I closed my eyes, trying to fight back my emotions and keep them level. I heard Emilie's sweet, Hermione-like voice on their end.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Granger?" I placed my arm on the wall in front of me and lowered my forehead on it. I kept my eyes closed.

"Harry?"

"Yeah… Yeah, it's me… Hey…"

"Where are you?" she asked, becoming concerned. My tone wasn't up-to-par as one would be in my position. "You sound like you're in a tunnel and our caller id has you marked as `unknown'."

I couldn't say a word. If I did, I'd cry, and I wished that wouldn't happen. Not now, Harry, fight it!

"How was New York, hun?" she asked innocently, oblivious. "How'd my Cupcake like it? Was she surprised?"

I broke down. I couldn't keep up my fight. Not after she said "Cupcake," and it didn't help hearing the Hermione-clone.

"Harry…," her tone grew suspicious. I think her motherly-instinct fell into place. I think she knew something was wrong before I had a chance to say it. "What's wrong? Where's Hermione?"

I sucked in a breath, sniffing in my runny nose, "I don't know where she is!"

"What do you mean, `you don't know where she is'? You must know where she is. Tell me where she's at!"

I sucked in another breath, "She collapsed, Mrs. Granger. She just collapsed and she was taken to the hospital, and I can't see her! They won't let me see her!"

The phone dropped dead. Silence. Nothing. I thought I lost the line completely until I heard a rough tone. Normally, Mr. Granger wasn't this gruff, but his baby girl was in trouble. "Harry?"

"Mr. Granger, I-"

"What happened, son. Tell me everything."

"I-I don't know what happened! We were cheering, the ball was dropping and she fell. Hermione just passed out, and we called for emergency and she was taken into the ER. They won't let me inside! I-I don't-!"

"Son," Frederick, I could tell, was trying to keep his own feelings at bay. He cleared his throat and said firmly, "Where exactly are you in New York?"

"Bellevue Hospital."

"Give me the address," I heard him fumbling with something. "I have a pad and pen ready. Go ahead."

I gave him the exact address, directions from where we were in Times Square, and what the outside of the building looked like.

"I've been to John F. Kennedy International on a business trip," he stated, fumbling again with an object or two beside the phone. I heard him say something to Emilie, something along the lines of, "Call Susan and tell her we won't be in for a few days. Tell her it's Hermione, she doesn't need to know all the details."

I heard him come back to the phone and I cried into it, "I'm sorry, sir. I'm so sorry… I love her, and I couldn't do anything to help her… I'm supposed to be protecting her…"

I breathed heavily with each pause.

"Harry, son," he coughed into the phone and cleared his throat. "Mrs. Granger and I know how much you love our daughter, and I know if you could, you'd take a bullet for my baby girl. This was an unexpected circumstance… Things like this happen in life and surprise us. Believe me, I didn't wake up this morning and expect a phone call from you stating my daughter was in the hospital."

"I'm so sorry, sir…" I whispered this into the phone, coughing.

"Calm down, son. Everything's going to be all right," Frederick slipped away from the phone a moment, and then grew louder as he re-approached. "Emilie and I are making arrangements online to get the first flight we can to New York. Is there any way we can get a hold of you when we arrive?"

It dawned on me for the first time that I had a mobile phone in my jacket pocket. I fought the urge to scream at my blunder, having to put in coin after coin to keep the Granger's on the phone. I popped the cell out and flipped it open. "Yeah," I coughed into my arm and rubbed my eyes of tears. "Yeah, I have a cell phone on me."

"Give me the number and we'll call you the moment we get off the plane."

I promptly gave him the phone number, and he thanked me as he wrote it down.

"And son," he started.

"Yes, sir?" I sniffed, wiping a tear from my cheek.

"It's not your fault, son," he stated sounding fatherly. "It's not your fault, son. Remember that… Emilie and I love you, and we appreciate what you've done for our daughter. You're a fine man. So, chip up and we'll be over there in no time."

"I'll try, sir…," I meant to smile, but it faded into a frown.

"All right," Frederick said soundly against the receiver. "Emilie sends her love. We'll be there in a snap."

"Thank you, sir. I'll be waiting for your phone call."

"All right, son," Frederick went to hang the phone up. "Take care."

"You, too, sir."

"Good bye."

The phone quieted and the dial tone affixed itself. I slowly put it back on the handle and laid my forehead back on my arm, leaning into the wall. I gradually twisted in my stance, and slid down it with my back. I fell to my rear. I pulled my knees to my chest, my sneakers squeaking on the slick surface. I hid my face from the extremely bright lights of the hospital. In my hands I went, into the darkness I created with my body.

I sobbed right there on the floor beneath the pay phone.

***

Ginny and Neville weren't there when I got back. My eyes were sore from rubbing them, and I began to tear up at the sight of being left alone. Alone. I stood in the entryway of the waiting room. The people that were already there stared at me like I was a freak or something. Even their kids stared at me from amongst the toy chest box. I went to get away, just get away from the spot to anywhere, maybe outside for fresh air, when I heard my name.

Ginny was running full speed and fell into me. She clutched me and held me tight in an embrace. Behind her was Neville, and beside him, walking at a quicker-than-normal pace was a young female doctor, clipboard, stethoscope, and all. She had the signature blue mask pulled down around her throat, her blonde, straight hair swaying behind her. She set her clear blue eyes on me and smiled. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know if that was a good sign, and I didn't want to get my hopes up. I've done that before only to have it backfire in my face.

I held Ginny to me as she held onto me. She had her cheek to my shoulder, and she looked up at me with a grin. I raised a brow, wanting to be positive, wanting to have a hopeful outlook; but I choked, my heart retreating. After everything that has happened, my emotions fell on the bad side more often than not. Neville waved at me in greeting, and I lifted my head in a nod with a solemn expression.

"We've been trying to find you," exclaimed Ginny. She was much more unruffled from the state I left her in. She swirled on her heel, her arm still around me in a half-hug. She pointed at the female physician only a few feet away now. "That's the doctor who saw over Hermione. She has some good news, Harry!"

I gulped, looking down at Ginny sternly, "Don't say that unless you're absolutely positive it's good."

"Well," Ginny sighed. Her arm around me tightened, and she glanced down at the floor away from my stern stare. "I think it's good, at least."

"Hello," the woman in white held out her hand to me. I just sort of looked at it for a second, not wanting to touch it. Like she was a disease I didn't want to catch. I felt sick. I closed my eyes and opened them slowly before shaking her hand. She still held that smile, her teeth extremely white. "I'm Dr. Rebecca Stone, you must be Harry?"

I nodded and said, probably, a bit cold, "I'm Harry."

"May I call you `Harry'?"

"…Sure," I shrugged.

"Well then, Harry," she motioned me with her clipboard down the hallway. "Walk with me?"

"Ginny says you have good news," my expression slipped into a poker face. I could have cried, wanting to have Ginny's assertion be right, but I think my tear-ducts dried up.

"I believe it's wonderful news, from a medical point of view," she motioned again for me to follow. What the Hell did that mean, `from a medical point of view'? "Walk with me, Harry. I want to talk with you."

I started to move, feeling my legs for the first time, when I stopped. Dr. Stone halted, too, and waited. I glanced at Ginny who had left me to stand with Neville. I looked back at Dr. Stone, "Can they come with me?"

Dr. Stone eyed the couple, and then smiled at me, "If that's what you'd like, of course, Harry."

Ginny ran to my right side with Dr. Stone on my left. Neville stayed between Ginny and me, behind us as we wandered the hall. Ginny looped her arm around my arm closest to her and hung onto me. I held her arm, and she held over my hand. I kept my eye on Dr. Stone, her heels clipping the hospital floor, making a clopping noise when she walked. She smiled at me and brushed some of her hair from her eye.

"Has Ms. Granger told you her heart, or her chest, sometimes feels like it tickles?" asked Dr. Stone.

I squinted, and slowly I nodded my head, "Would holding her chest count?"

"That can be a reflex, yes," Dr. Stone shook her head. "We've run some tests after she came into the emergency room to narrow the field. The problem is definitely within her chest region, her heart to be more precise. Her heart is exhausted."

"Her heart is exhausted…?" The word exhausted fell out of my mouth long and exaggerated. "What the Hell does that mean, doc?"

"From our preliminary results from the tests we performed prior to the echocardiogram, our team suspected her heart was working harder than it should by the input-output we were receiving," we all turned a corner in tandem. "We're to believe there's a small obstruction somewhere inside the heart itself making her heart do double-time; but without the echocardiogram, we won't know precisely where or what Ms. Granger's full diagnosis is. We can only…guesstimate, from the symptoms she's shown us to proceed in comparison to past patients. The results of the ECG are returning shortly."

"Is `guesstimate' a medical term nowadays, doctor?"

"Will Hermione have to be operated on?" asked Ginny, rigid to my side.

Dr. Stone shook her head at Ginny, "I can't tell you that isn't a possibility. That's always a possibility. Her heart did respond to the drugs we gave her, so we're moving in the right direction for the diagnosis."

She glanced back at me, "Harry, we're monitoring Ms. Granger around the clock. We have her stabilized."

We stopped in front of an elevator. I hadn't known we even went to stop until I almost ran into the shiny, metallic elevator door. I saw my reflection in the metal material and I looked all kinds of disheveled, and worse. I lifted my glasses from the bridge of my nose and rub my eyes. I heard the doors open with a "Ding!" and Dr. Stone utter, "May we proceed?"

"Where exactly are we going?" I demanded through a tensed jaw. All I wanted to know was that Hermione was all right, and all I heard was medical mumbo-jumbo. I felt Ginny squeeze my arm.

"Ms. Granger has a private room on the Cardiac level," My eyes lit up. Hermione! A rush of happiness filled my core. I sprinted into the elevator, dragging Ginny with me. Dr Stone followed with Neville and pressed the `3' on the number pad. The button lit up and the door closed. We stepped off the first floor, so the levels went by fast. I didn't even get to ask a question, or hear Dr. Stone talk, before the door slid back open with a "Ding!" I ran out ahead of the doctor with Ginny in tow. Dr. Stone was clutching her clipboard to her chest when I saw her beside me again. She nodded, greeting another doctor going into the elevator, and turned to me, "But, Harry, there are a few things I must make clear with you beforehand…"

There it was. There was the catch. The Catch-22. My heart fell right back from its cloud nine peak. I felt sick again, like I might vomit. The emotional rollercoaster pushed me into a migraine and I felt woozy. Ginny hugged me tighter and tighter as we pushed on, following Dr. Stone's direction.

"Even though Ms. Granger is stabilized," I felt we already walked a mile, door after door going on by us. "She's currently being observed, as I've said. Just…"

We held on a door, stopped. Room 313 with the name, "Granger, Hermione," written in black marker on a white board below the tag. Dr. Stone removed a clipboard from a holder on the wood and replaced it with the one she held. She made some marks on it hastily. She sighed and eyed me with her baby-blue eyes, "Just…from seeing loved ones in the same position as Ms. Granger, be prepared for anything. She's fine medically, but when you step into the room and see her…just be prepared, you may be overwhelmed."

My eyes were wide with water. I went from Hermione's name on the door, to Dr. Stone, and then back at her name.

Dr. Stone patted my shoulder and turned on her heel, but not before saying to me, "Good luck, Harry. I'll be seeing you again, soon, with a better diagnosis than our preliminary. The door's unlocked. Go in whenever you want to."

My hand went to the cold metal handle of Room 313. I breathed in, and wanted to be prepared. I didn't know what was behind the door. It's like…being in front of a cave and wanting to go on further, wanting to know what mysteries lay therein. The cave is dark and you're without a light. The more you press in, the more you anticipate something to come out of the pitch-black. Then, when you least expect it, surrounded and suffocated with the blackness that you can't even see your own body. Your mind floats away like a near-death experience, and that "something" waiting in the dark finally mauls you to pieces.

I was waiting to be mauled.

This was any loved one's nightmare. The onset of a point in your life where you knew, for better or worse, you will forever remember the very moment. You only hoped the pain, if it was pain, came fast and lasted only a little while. I took in another deep breath and felt Ginny by my neck. Neville put his hand on my left shoulder and squeezed it.

"We're right here…," said Ginny softly.

"We're here," Neville reassured with another squeeze. "All the way."

I nodded and twisted the handle. I, all at once, heard the heart rate monitor beeping away. I stepped once into the room and immediately saw the end of a bed made up with feet tucked in under white sheets. White sheets. Death sheets. I took another step, my eyes seeing more of her legs, her knee, and then I fell into the room all the way. Tears dropped, and I nearly dropped. I propped myself on the wall. I hadn't even made it past the archway of the door. I held myself on the frame and looked in at Hermione.

I tried not to hyperventilate, my chest ferociously heaving an unsteady rate. The first thing I saw were the tubes all wrapped around her form. Some of the lines went under the blankets to her body, mostly directed toward her chest area. An oxygen mask held taut to her mouth and nose, a small bag inflating, pushing oxygen into her so she didn't have to work to breathe on her own. Tubes stuck in her nose from underneath the mask and went around the back of her head, and into her hair. Her eyes were closed, and that ghostly pale still lingered on her skin from the instant she collapsed.

Four other monitors, besides the heart rate monitor, twirled with numbers evaluating and reevaluating my little Hermione bundled in electronics. She looked utterly uncomfortable, and wrong, so very wrong in the environment. I coughed out a stutter, sucking in tears but more overcame me. I stumbled over to a chair as quickly as I could without falling down, my hands along the wall. I sat down right alongside her and looked at her body, her chest rising and falling with the breathing machine. I lifted my hand to my mouth, my lips trembling, my body trembling.

I heard Ginny gasp, and my focus went to her. Her hands were grasping her mouth. Tears streaked her cheeks, dripping along her tightened hands, along her tight fingers. She gasped again and shook her head. She couldn't make it passed the door, standing mostly in the hall we came from.

"I'm sorry!" she whispered hastily in one breath under her fingers. "I just-I just can't do this right now!"

She fled out of the room, her inflamed, red hair fluttering in the wind she created, and I heard her crying.

Neville stood in the door way. I saw his Adam's apple bob up-and-down. I stared at him a moment, my eyes like his wide and watery, and then looked back at my Hermione, deathly awe-struck.

"Harry…," he said softly. My eyes, huge, went right back to him. He just stared on at me, speechless, until he said back just as soft. "I'm so sorry. I'm just so sorry…"

I turned back to Hermione. I gently lifted my hand and lightly touched her limp arm outside the sheets. She was so cold. She didn't feel like Hermione. She felt…I didn't want to say…

"I'm sorry…," I heard Neville say again. "I have to go get Ginny…"

I just nodded my head and heard the door close behind him. Eyes locked on Hermione's lifeless form, I stared. That's all I could do. Water, pieces of me, drizzled like raindrops to my jeans. I moved my fingers down her arm, along her elbow. I watched her arm wiggle, and I hoped it was her moving, but realized it was only by my touch. I took up her hand, lacing my fingers between hers like we always did, and cried. I lay my head against the metal sides of the bed, and poured my water onto the floor. I coughed, and I wanted to throw up, but nothing came out but dry heaves.

"Why…" I asked thin air. "Why…"

I slipped my head up, my eyes over the railing to watch the air bag inflate and deflate, pulsing my Hermione's chest. I lightly raised her hand, conscientious to each individual movement to not hurt her in any way, and kissed the top of it. I ran my fingers in her cool palm and kept my stare on her face, her closed eyes.

"I love you…," I said, choking up. My voice was quiet, the monitors beeping over me. "I love you…"

My focus went to the ceiling, and I swallowed hard, "Why are you doing this to me? Why?!"

I sniffed, "Are you punishing me because of something I did?! Why are you hurting her?! She's innocent, she didn't do anything… Wound me, if that's what you're doing! Hurt me! Scratch me! Stab me! Kill me! But, not her… She didn't do anything wrong… She couldn't do anything wrong…"

I coughed into my arm and glared at the ceiling, "Is this because I took her from Ron?! Is that it, huh?! Do you think she'd be happy with him?! Look at how he treated her! No…it has to be because of something I'd done…or maybe, you just hate me…"

My eyes traced Hermione's flaccid features, "Please, don't take her away from me… Please… I've only gotten to love her a second compared to a lifetime… Please, don't take her away from me now… Please…"

I let her hand hold mine as I stood up. I leaned across her and gently kissed the side of her head. I couldn't help but cry when she didn't respond as much as I wished for anything, any movement, just anything at all.

"I love you Hermione Granger…," I whispered into her ear. I kissed her forehead tenderly. "I love you… Please don't leave me… Please don't leave me here alone without you…"

I inhaled a breath and hesitated, nuzzling her like all the times we had, "I've only just begun to love you… Please don't leave me, Hermione… Please… Don't leave me…"

"…I can't live without you…"

***

I fell asleep with her hand in mine, and my head alongside the metal barricade of her bed. What woke me up was the opening of the door, the brightness of the newly born light from the hallway, and the nurse that walked in whilst taking the clipboard from the door. She smiled at me. I blinked and gazed back at my Hermione still lying like I left her. I laid my forehead back on the metal and sighed.

The nurse needed to do some tests, one being the drawing of blood and an injection of anti-pain medication. I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to see Hermione given pain, the needle sticking into her arm. I squeezed her hand in mine and leaned over to her. I nudged my little lioness with my nose on her cheek and kissed her forehead. I ran my hand through her hair, and left before I could see the nurse commence medical torture.

Night had fallen in New York City. I passed by windows in the hallway and saw the blinking bulbs, flashing advertisements far away and the lines of headlights on the roads. I wondered where Ginny and Neville had gone. I remembered, this time, I had a cellular phone. I wasn't used to it, this being my first and only. I flipped the phone out, the miniature screen coming to life. I was about to call Ginny, punching in her number, but stopped. I smelled the aroma of incense and I heard a piano playing a softened melody. I followed the scent and sound around the corner and came, face-to-face, with the hospital's chapel.

I gazed up at the cross in the centre, a red aisle separating pews in rows on the left and right. I shut my phone off and slipped it back in my jean pocket. I wasn't much of a religious person, sauntering down the aisle with my hands crossed on my chest. I kept my eye on the white cross with a beam of light shining upon it from the floor. I traipsed right up to the front and stopped at a raised ledge on the floor. A woman kneeled, and was in the middle of prayer, when she turned to look up at me. The elderly woman smiled with a piece of jewelry in her hand. I smiled too, and went to peer at the cross once more.

What had I to lose? Besides my Hermione…I had nothing else… She, my life…

I'd reach out to about anything to have her live, even if it was to reach out to something or someone I'd never really did before in my past. I didn't shake, confident, with my Hermione-memories flooding my mind of all our joyous, happy times. I grinned and closed my eyes, letting the tune of the piano play in time with my nostalgia. A wet drop slid along my cheek. I'll try anything, Hermione… Anything…

I got down on my knees, trying to mimic the position the elderly woman was in. I hadn't done this, and merely closed my eyes and hoped, wishing that my Hermione would pull through.

In the waves of my emotions I saw Hermione lying in my arms within the moving-pictures of my mind, happy, healthy, and alive.

I wept.

{Inspirations for the Chapter: From the beginning to end, Running Up That Hill by Placebo, Bad Dream by Keane, and Possibility by Lykke Li. The lyrics and music is spot on. I only wish there was a way you could embed a song in a story right at that very moment of emotion}

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