Disclaimer: Not my Characters, but my plot bunny!
Chapter 2
A scratching at the window woke Hermione. She felt that she only slept for a minute, rather than
hours and felt no better than when she had succumbed to her exhaustion. She was glad it was Sunday,
as she didn't have to be in healer training on weekends. The scratching at the window was
created by a brown ministry owl. Hermione glanced at Harry, who was still out for the count and
would likely to remain so for a few hours yet, if past experience was anything to go by. When the
window was opened, the owl landed on the windowsill and held his leg out to Hermione. As soon as
the letter attached to his leg was removed the owl gave an aloof hoot and flew away. The letter was
addressed to Harry and she placed it on his desk, it was then she noticed the pile of unopened
letters. There were five letters in total, all similar to the one she held in her hand, boasting
the stamp of the Ministry of Magic. Eyebrows knitted together, Hermione struggled with a moral
dilemma; Harry was obviously ignoring the letters for a reason, but they likely were important if
they were from the Ministry. Casting a guilty look at the sleeping boy-who-lived, she ran her
finger under the seal of the letter in her hand and read.
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Auror Division
Ministry of Magic
Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,
We have previously sent you confirmation of your success in the Auror Written Entrance
exam; once again we extend our congratulations on your excellent score. Our records
indicate that you have not yet sat the practical examination and medical assessment. According to
our records we have arranged three appointments on your behalf and you failed to attend.
May we remind you again that these appointments are mandatory before entrance to the
Auror training programme.
Due to your excellent score in the entrance exam and known personal experience with the dark
arts, the head of the Auror School, Kingsley Shacklebolt, would like to extend one
further chance for you to attend for the examination and assessment.
An appointment has been made for you on the morning of March tenth; a representative will
wait to meet you in the reception hall at ten o'clock.
Should you be unable to attend this appointment please inform us in haste.
Yours sincerely
Jackson Levy
Recruitment Co-ordinator
Hermione folded the letter and sat on the desk chair. Harry had taken the entrance exam to
become an Auror? She was unsure when he had been able to do this without anyone knowing, and more
so about the reason for doing so considering his current condition. Hermione thought back to the
period following the final battle, just over eighteen months previously. She and Ron had decided to
return to Hogwarts to complete their education after spending the summer assisting with the
rebuilding of the castle. During this time Harry remained in the coma he was found in. They had
wanted to wait for him, but healers advised that if he awoke he would likely be unable to leave the
hospital for many months due to his numerous injuries and they do not believe he would be well
enough to attend his final year. It was a tumultuous time for Harry's best friends, the fear of
Harry never waking, the knowledge there was nothing they could do to help him and the feeling of
helplessness had assisted them in making the decision to return. Headmistress McGonagall had
advised them that they could leave the castle to visit Harry at any time, and convinced them that
finishing their education and obtaining their NEWTs was their best option at that time. They had
been given the head boy and girl suite for privacy, and it was there they healed together. With a
smile, Hermione remembered her and Ron's short lived relationship. It quickly became clear,
that their relationship was better suited to brother and sister rather than lovers; luckily for
Ron, for it was there that he and Luna struck up their relationship. Hermione believed they were
perfect for each other. As for her love life, well it was non-existent, as she was unable to move
on whilst Harry was in Hospital.
Harry awoke six months after the final battle, and was in no condition to attend Hogwarts, as
the Healers had said. When he had awoken, it was with great pain and the healers had diagnosed
damage to his neurological system. Hundreds of tests brought them no closer to treating the
problem, and his condition became managed through a complicated routine of pain and sleep potions.
These allowed Harry to go about as normal, but required taking every 4 hours in the daytime. Harry
had begged to leave the hospital, and with help from Hermione was able to move into his home flat
in London, near St Mungos, and continued his treatment at home. This worked well for a few months,
Ron and Hermione joined him upon graduation and he seemed to be taking everything in his stride.
Hermione believed that the months of endless tests and trials, and the fact that the healers were
no closer to a cure affected Harry more than he let on. It was when Harry had been advised that he
would be unable to pursue any sort of physical career especially that of an Auror, his downward
spiral began.
Back in the present Hermione placed the letter with the others, she guessed they contained many
notifications of appointments he did not attend, she wondered what Kingsley Shacklebolt thought of
all this- she remembered that he would have been one of the few that knew Harry's condition.
McGonagall had made sure that the truth of Harry's condition was not known outside of the
remnants of the Order. It was likely that he was following procedure to avoid raising suspicion.
Hermione knew Harry must have sat the exam without telling anyone before he spoke with his healers.
That would explain why he had not sat the practical exam, or attended the medical examination. He
knew he would not pass.
With a sigh, Hermione stood from the desk. Harry was still sleeping soundly and comfortably. She
left his bedroom, leaving the door open a crack, so she might hear him when he awoke. Stepping into
the open-plan living area and kitchen, she was greeted by Ron and Luna. Ron had brewed some coffee
and used his wand to poor her some from the coffee pot. The cup levitated towards her and she
accepted it gratefully.
“How is he? “ Ron asked.
“You know...” Hermione shrugged sadly “The same as usual. He was sick, I gave him his potions
and he went to sleep. I don't expect him to wake up anytime soon. I gave him one of the
stronger sleep draughts that Healer Guttridge has given him for bad days” She thought about telling
Ron about what she had read in the letter from the ministry but decided she would attempt to speak
to Harry about it first.
Ron took a sip of his coffee thoughtfully, “What do you suppose he is thinking when he goes out?
Do you think he plans on being gone as long as he is?”
Hermione considered this question. Harry must be taking some potions with him; she knew this
because it was herself that collected his allowance from St Mungos pharmacy every week to replenish
the cupboard. In the extensive tabloid coverage of his exploits there were never reports of the
pain-addled Harry that they knew, nor reports of him downing potions in a back alley somewhere. She
suspected that he managed to hide this quite well, so strong was his desire to appear normal to the
rest of the wizarding world that even drunk he could hide his condition. Saying that it was plain
to see the copious amounts of alcohol helped abate the pain somewhat. “I don't know, Ron” she
sighed, she took a long sip of her coffee which was charmed to remain at the perfect temperature
“I'm not sure who he even is anymore. It's like Voldemort took a part of him that day”.
O~O~O
Harry's eyes opened slowly. His tongue felt large in his mouth and his skull was ten time
too small to house his brain. The hangover was a state Harry was far too familiar with now. He
noted he was safely ensconced in his own bed. He didn't remember how he got there, but then
again he never did. A wave of guilt crashed over him because he knew that once again he had left
Ron and Hermione to pick up the pieces. The wave of guilt he felt raised so much so that he felt he
was going to drown and he suddenly felt he was drowning and had - no, needed- to move, to
get out. He threw back the duvet that was threatening to smother him and swung himself to
his feet. Instantly he knew his mistake, the room swam and the pain shot from the balls of his feet
to the top of his head. He couldn't stop himself from pitching forward into the chest of
drawers by the side of his bed, the hand he threw out to attempt to catch himself only served to
clear everything from the top of the drawers to the floor. Empty potion bottles cluttered and
shattered as they hit the floor, his shoulder made contact with the dark wood and landed
unceremoniously on the wooden floor. He swore, at first because of the cacophony of noise he had
created and secondly because he had placed the heel of his palm directly into the shards of glass
that littered the ground around him. He looked at the blood swelling from his palm with regret as
the clamorous footsteps of his three housemates arrived at the door of his bedroom.
“Oh, Harry!” Hermione intoned softly as she surveyed the scene. “Why didn't you call when
you woke up?!” The pity pouring from her brown eyes made Harry sick to his stomach and he looked
away from her.
“I didn't think” he answered softly. He heard Ron clear his throat angrily but didn't
look at him, knowing that there was plenty of things that his best friend wanted to say to him.
They were too busy treading on eggshells around him to actually be honest with him. It was his
fault that his friends suffered, he had dragged them through the war and now he was dragging them
down with him. He felt he was spiralling deeper and deeper into an abyss with every passing day. He
knew he should just run away- that they would move on eventually, and be able to live the lives
they so deserved. He had planned on it, in fact when he went out on more than one occasion he had
no plans to return, but something kept bringing him back.
“-Harry...Harry!” Her concerned tone snapped him back into the room, and he blinked fuzzily at
her. She was kneeling in front of him now, his hand in hers as she used her want to extract the
shards of glass and heal the furiously bleeding welts with tiny flicks of her wand. The rest of the
glass was gone from the floor. “Did you hear anything I just said?” she continued.
He shook his head and muttered “I'm sorry, Hermione”, he glanced quickly towards Ron and
Luna; a second apology left his lips. His eyes came back to his hand, where Hermione was almost
finished, he didn't feel any pain. His reliance on the pain killing potions meant that every
few months they had to be made stronger as his body became used to them. He felt very little whilst
he was on them, like he had a second skin that numbed everything, even other people's touch
felt a million miles away.
“I was saying that it looks like you have some nasty bruising where you must have hit your
shoulder” Harry glanced at his arm where indeed he saw purple patches forming just under the short
sleeve of his t-shirt. He nodded. Hermione's voice was laden with sorrow when she asked “Does
it hurt?”
Harry shook his head “I can't- I don't feel anything”. Hermione looked like she
was choking back tears, and Harry wished that she wouldn't cry but felt powerless to stop it.
Why do I keep coming back here? How can I keep doing this to them?
“Come on, Mate” Ron said in a would-be jovial tone “Let's get you up. Hermione has done a
good job on that hand” Harry nodded and allowed himself to be helped up by his two best friends.
The people he felt closest too in the world, but at the same time he felt eons of space between
them. A distance of epic proportions, an ocean he couldn't swim across to get back to them. To
get back to himself. Now the Great War was over, who was Harry James Potter?
He blinked and he was in the kitchen. He had been so lost in himself that he didn't remember
being helped there. Only Hermione was sat at the table. A sandwich sat on a plate in front of him-
he didn't remember that being put there either- and he quashed the feeling of nausea that
swarmed up. He pushed it away from himself gingerly.
O~O~O
Hermione watched him push his sandwich away with dismay. Did he even remember what solid food
tasted like? The nutrition potion that became necessary to place him on provided him with all the
basics, but it was a sorry substitute for real food. Harry caught her watching him and he gave her
a guilty look;
“I feel sick” he offered up simply.
Hermione bristled. She wasn't surprised after the amount he had drunk last night, and
frankly he had brought that upon himself- she stopped in her tracks. She didn't mean to lose
her patience, but everything was so hard, why did he make everything so damn difficult! “Well,
you've had all the anti-nausea potion I can give you” she exhaled angrily. Harry flinched but
covered it up quickly. Shame burned in her throat but she couldn't quell the exhaustion that
seemed to settle over her. The resignation that this was the rest of her life. The man she loved-
and she did love him, she loved him so much, was in love with him- but she was sure he was
so broken that he was beyond her love now. What good was her love to him, if it hadn't served
to help him so far? However she knew that she would never be able to give up on him because
maybe...maybe one day he would get better...maybe one day he could love her back.
Judging by the green tint to Harry's complexion she was sure that there was no way she would
be getting him to eat today. His eyes were glassy already -he had already retreated into himself-
no doubt reliving some horrific moment from his short life. It wasn't like he was in short
supply. She wanted so desperately to ask him about the letter she had read this morning, but
didn't know how to let him know she had opened the letter without his permission or if he would
even speak to her about it. He looked even further away from her now, even though he sat within
arms reach.
She remembered when those beautiful green eyes were radiant and full of hope, she remembered the
confidence with which he set off to face Voldemort for the final time.
Hermione spun around as the death eater she duelled was felled by a very accurate
reducto! from Harry's wand. It seemed they had been fighting forever but in reality
it had only been an hour since the battle broke out. The order were spread throughout the cemetery
in Godric's hollow, they outnumbered the remaining death eaters. The months of searching
for the horcruxes had led to this, they had destroyed six, and the only
remaining fragment of Voldemort's rotting soul was within Voldemort
himself. Harry had stated he was near, minutes before the tell-tale noise of apparitions
signalled the ambush of death eaters upon them. The order were ready however, and
were steadily dispatching Voldemort's followers, picking them off one by one.
Hermione felt tired, deep, deep to the bone tired; but somehow she knew this would soon all be
over. She knew somehow, that the war was approaching its end. One way or another, it would be over
soon. She cast spell after spell as the order slowly overcome the figures of darkness. Soon the
death eaters were outnumbered, and they looked scared. She stunned one death eater, whilst Harry
cast a shield with ease, protecting her from spell fire. They worked perfectly in unison. Back to
back, hey spun, complementing each other perfectly with the timing of their casting and erections
of shields to deflect. The Death Eaters were falling back. Their numbers were
dwindling, the order was winning!
Hermione felt a tug on her arm as Harry tugged her to into cover behind one of
the larger tombstones. His eyes were bright, and he was panting with adrenaline.
“I think this is it Hermione” he whispered “I think it's time” His eyes glittered
brightly with something she did not recognise. “I see things clearly now. I have to go.”
Bile rose in her throat. She panicked. It was too soon. He wasn't- no, she wasn't
ready to lose him.
“Okay” she countered. She suddenly felt absolute “I'm coming with you”
She tried to argue as he shook his head, but he raised a finger to her lips to
cut her off “You are needed here, help Ron and the Order to distract the rest. I'll take care
of Voldemort”
“Harry!” She cried, annoyed that it bubbled up as a sob in her throat. “I'm - we're-
not ready to lose you!”
Harry looked above her shoulder, as another death eater was felled nearby. He looked at her
with a renewed sense of urgency. “Listen Hermione- I see so clearly now. I know I can beat him. I
feel...” he stopped as he searched for the words to explain- “I know it is time. I'm going to
beat him Hermione, and then this will all be over. We. Will. Be. Free”
Such confidence shone from his eyes that she believed him. She really did. He took her hand
in his and gave it a squeeze. “If-“he stopped himself “When I get back. There are
things we need to discuss” He was speaking really urgently now. She knew that her face showed the
confusion and curiosity she felt, she parted her lips to speak, but he just shook his head and
kissed her on the cheek. Hard.
“I'll see you later, Hermione” She looked into her eyes. Victory and
promise shone true.
It was that moment she realised she loved him, although she did not know how to process it at
the time.
She never did find out what he wanted to discuss.
She was woken from her reverie by the sound of paper slapping the table at which she and Harry
sat. Harry also appeared to be jolted from wherever he had been.
“I think you both better see this” He stated grimly.
It was that mornings Daily Prophet.
A large magical picture of Harry graced the front cover, he looked dishevelled and unwell
stumbling down the street towards their flat. It must have been that very morning, judging by the
clothing he was wearing. Hermione was astounded at the speed these reporters must have worked.
The headline screamed `HARRY POTTER: GOLDEN BOY ADDICTION SHAME', in smaller print
underneath it stated, `Conquest reveals Potter's addiction to dreamless sleep potion'
Hermione watched the colour drain from Harry's face. The details may have been slightly hazy
but it appeared his condition was no longer going unnoticed.
“Oh shit...” Harry muttered dispassionately, dropping his head into the folds of his
elbows.
Ron cast his eyes over to Hermione. “I don't think we can cover this up anymore”
Hermione swallowed in dread. What are we going to do now, Harry?
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