The world faded in and out in tones of grey and sepia, never lingering long enough for her to know where she was.
The first time she was aware, all she could hear were voices and see blurred shapes through the slight slit of eyes she was able to manage. There was a pressure on her stomach and she was forced to swallow a foul tasting potion. Then she was gone again.
The next time she woke she could see clearly. She was still in the library, on the settee. She didn't want to move, but felt a presence to her left and someone was holding her hand.
She was upstairs in Sirius's bedroom the third time she woke. The pillows were soft and a thumb ran over the ring on her finger so she squeezed. There was a lot of noise and then cool hands on her forehead and another potion.
The fourth time she woke up she was still in the bedroom. It was night, based on how quiet the house was and she felt more present. A dark shape was in her peripheral vision and with considerable effort she was able to turn her head. It was Harry. She fell back asleep with a smile on her face.
She woke up screaming the fifth time. Hands were on her shoulders pushing her back down, and she searched for her wand. Eventually she could hear murmured pleas against her hair, and her eyes finally saw what was in front of them. With her face still wet, she reached a hand up and had it grabbed before it could reach its destination. "Hello," she said quietly, and Harry pressed a hard kiss to her palm not bothering to hide his tears.
When she woke later, she felt like she could keep her eyes open for longer than a few minutes. She was still in the bedroom and could see various potion bottles and vials strewn about the dresser across from her.
She felt weak and tired, but there wasn't any pain. Her hand was empty, and with her brow furrowed in confusion she turned her head to the left and saw the chair was empty. She was alone.
A flare of hurt and panic went through her. Where was Harry? What was going on? Had he left again? She had no idea what day it was or what had been happening and the unknown was weighing on her.
She put her hands against the mattress and tried to push herself up some, but a pain shot through her core and her arms collapsed underneath her. Apparently not everything was better.
Just as she was contemplating calling out, the door opened. The hallway was dark and at first she couldn't make out who it was until a bit of light reflected off of the person's glasses. Harry.
He didn't notice she was awake. He carried a mug of tea in one hand, and by the hunch of his shoulders and the way he moved she could tell he wasn't doing well mentally.
Making his way through the dark he sat the mug on the table next to the bed and sank back into the chair with a sigh. She waited until he was seated to speak.
"Hello," she said softly, glad to hear that her voice sounded strong.
His head turned towards her slowly and then he lit the lamp by the bed. She blinked at the intrusion, and then it didn't matter anymore because he was looking at her like she had just gifted him water in a desert.
He slid off the chair onto his knees beside the bed. " `Mione," he whispered, clearly not believing that she was awake. His hand hovered over hers and she closed the gap by intertwining their fingers. At the contact he exhaled and fell forward until his head was pressed into her hip.
He stayed there for a long time. She stroked her fingers through his dark hair and waited. When he lifted his head his eyes were red rimmed but dry.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Tired," she admitted.
"I'm sure." He had replied with a choked voice and looked away for a moment. She studied him and saw the strain around his eyes, the unshaven face, and the faint bruising on his temple.
"How long?" she asked perceptively.
He swallowed hard before replying. "Three days. You've been in and out, but..." And then he let go of her hand and jerked to his feet. He ripped his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose hard. "Damn it `Mione, I almost lost you."
"It was bad," she confirmed. She remembered. She remembered being in the street with Bill and George and not knowing if she'd make it to Grimmauld.
He didn't answer her. He didn't have to.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. She knew this was her fault.
He was at her side again immediately. "Don't. Just...don't do that. Not right now." His face was so hurt, and he said it so earnestly she had to agree.
"What time is it?" she asked, noticing that the rest of the house was quiet.
"It's late. Two something I think. You don't get another potion until six." The way he spoke made it seem like her potion schedule was something he was all too familiar with.
"You've been here the whole time?"
He leaned in so their foreheads touched. "Where else would I be?" he said softly, lips brushing her cheek.
Her eyes grew heavy and she gripped his hand more securely when he sat back in the chair. "Go to sleep," he commanded. "I'll be here when you wake up."
It was light out when she opened her eyes next. Harry was stretched out on the bed next to her, one hand lying on her wrist. Ron now occupied the chair, his head propped up on one hand and his legs rested on the bed near her feet. Someone was moving around the potions that had rested on the dresser and Hermione realized it was the familiar form of the Hogwarts nurse, Madame Pomfrey.
"Glad to see you're back with us, Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey said when she saw her charge was awake.
It was a testament to how exhausted Harry had to have been for him not to wake up.
"I must have been in bad shape if you're here," Hermione observed, keeping her voice low.
"I have experience keeping the three of you whole. I wasn't going to break that record now," their former caretaker replied, but there was an edge to her voice Hermione had never heard before.
"You scared the shit out of us Hermione," Ron said suddenly. She cut her eyes to see him looking at her with an expression she couldn't place.
He stared at her for a long minute and then got to his feet. "I'll be back," he said shortly, grabbed her hand for a second, and then fled the room.
The nurse came to her side and handed her a blue potion. Hermione swallowed it dutifully, but with a grimace.
"How are they?" she asked, knowing that both Ron and Harry had been hurt that day as well.
"Mr. Weasley had been adequately healed by his mother by the time I arrived," Madame Pomfrey answered, taking the empty vial back to join the collection. "That one," she said with derision in her voice while jerking her head in Harry's direction, "That one there gave me trouble, although that is nothing new I suppose. He refused treatment until you had been seen to. Considering I'm fairly proficient in triage you were already my first priority," she said acerbically. "However, Mr. Potter continued to refuse my care even after...well, after I had done what I could do for you Ms. Granger." Hermione felt her throat get tight. She knew it was close, but if the veteran nurse had thought she may not survive...Hermione didn't want to complete that thought.
"So how is he?"
"Concussion." Madame Pomfrey said with the air of someone that had treated him for ailment countless times before. "And he had been hit with the Cruciatus curse several times, although he didn't tell me that on his own."
Hermione curled her fingers around so she could touch his hand, glad to see he was still sleeping. She knew he hadn't been doing much of that recently.
"I'm pleased to see him resting. He hasn't had more than a few hours." Madame Pomfrey confirmed. "Since you seem to be back with us permanently I'll be returning to Hogwarts. There is no reason those here can't care for you for the remainder of your recovery."
"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said with a smile
"Just doing my job. Although, if I'm being honest Ms. Granger, I thought my days of caring for `The Trio' were over. Take care." She swept from the room.
She could hear Harry's even breathing and faint noises from the rest of the house, but other than that it was quiet. For once she was awake, and she had nothing but questions. Mostly though, she was worried about Ron. He had looked scared, angry, and something else that she couldn't quite identify.
She tried to shut her eyes and rest, but she was awake now, and quite frankly she was tired of being unconscious. It was getting old.
There was a shuffling noise and Mrs. Weasley was at the bedside. "Hello, dear. Ron said you were awake. I thought you might like a cup of tea," she said with watery eyes.
"That sounds lovely, thank you." Hermione reached for the cup, feeling a twinge when she twisted too far. Mrs. Weasley shoo'd her off and handed it to her.
"How are you feeling?" Molly asked softly, sitting in the chair.
"Awake. Better, I think," she answered truthfully. "How's Ron? He seemed...off. I'm not sure, he wasn't in here long."
Mrs. Weasley looked away at first and then fussed with the edge of the blanket, straightening it and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. "Ron's just been worried dear."
Hermione knew Molly was avoiding speaking the truth, but she didn't want to push and decided to wait for Ron to tell her himself.
"Would you like me to bring up something to eat?"
The thought of food turned her stomach. "Not yet. I'm afraid food doesn't sound appetizing. Tell Ron he's welcome to my share."
Molly took the half empty tea cup from Hermione and patted her hand before saying she'd check in later.
As soon as she was out of the room, Ron walked in looking slightly sheepish. He scuffed his feet as he crossed the carpet to her side and hung his head like a bad dog.
When he was standing next to her she had to crane her head up to look at him. She reached out a hand and tugged on the bottom of his shirt. "You're too tall. I'm getting a crick in my neck."
He obediently crouched and laid his folded arms on the bed, but he still wouldn't look at her.
"What happened?" she said simply, tapping his arm with a finger.
He sighed once and bowed his head before finally looking at her. "We were attacked. All three of us. All at once." He let the information sink in before continuing. "Somebody's Trio hunting," he said with a dark laugh that didn't sound anything like the Ron she knew.
The information was shocking. Clearly they knew someone was after her and Ron, but to now add Harry to the list and to have gotten to him while he was on a mission...That made this something else entirely. "Does Harry have any idea?" Ron cut her off before she could continue.
"He won't talk about it. He wants your side of the story and he says there are things he can't talk about," Ron said with a snort, obviously in disagreement with Harry's point of view.
"So, what happened to you?" she asked, desperate for information.
Ron ran his hands through his hair and then down his face before grabbing one of her hands in both of his. He looked ashamed and sad, and she had no idea why.
"I was out walking near the pond at the Burrow," he began, staring at a fixed point on the blanket while he talked. "I just needed to get out and get some air. Luna was going to walk over and meet me and stay for dinner." He shut his eyes tight for a moment as if he had been struck by some mental image that he couldn't bear. "I guess I got too close to the wards or maybe they got through them, I don't know. The next thing I know, I hear someone apparate behind me. I turn around and it's one of those guys from the shop. I'm not sure if it's the same one but he's wearing the same thing." She shivered at the memory of those dark hoods that made it look like there was a void where there should be a face.
The grip on her hand was getting harder. "He starts shooting spells at me. First one was Sectumsempra. It caught me in the shoulder and I swear for a second I thought my arm was gone. I had to switch my wand to the other hand and then, I don't know why, but instead of using the heavy stuff, I fired every school yard jinx and hex I could think of. Probably ten of them in a row and the last one was a full body bind." His knuckles were white now, his grip was so tight and the bones in her fingers were grinding together, but she didn't dare say anything.
The set of his jaw was tight and a crease between his brows so deep that he aged in front of her. He was so keyed up he practically vibrated and she couldn't possibly imagine what was affecting him this badly.
He took a deep breath and then leaned his head down until it rested on the hand he grasped. He continued talking. "The body bind caught him. He tipped over and landed in the pond. Face down. I didn't pull him out, Hermione. I let him drown," and his shoulders shook at the admission.
"Oh, Ron," she exhaled, and the image he presented was suddenly so powerful it took her breath away. Kneeling, head bowed, clasping her hand: He was looking for absolution.
"Oh, Ron," she repeated and wished she was able to comfort him.
"Ron," she called, but he didn't acknowledge he had heard her. "Ron, look at me," she said, her voice stern. Finally he raised his head enough to meet her eyes even though he looked away almost immediately.
"I'm glad you let him drown," she said fiercely and his eyes flew to hers. "He was going to kill you. It was a battle, and you won. There is nothing wrong with that." As she talked, she kept seeing the explosion she'd caused at Diagon Alley and the two people she'd certainly killed.
He didn't respond, but the death grip he had on her hand lessened and she managed to wiggle it free of his grasp and lay it on the back of his head. He took deep shuddering breaths and she knew he was trying not to completely breakdown.
It was quiet for a long time.
"I'm glad you let him drown too." Harry's voice came from her right. Hermione startled. She hadn't heard him wake up and wondered how long he'd been listening.
Keeping her hand on Ron, she turned so she could see Harry. His hand squeezed her fingers and she squeezed them back. "Hello again," she said with a smile, and he smiled back before leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Glad to see you're back with us," he whispered and then slipped from the bed and headed into the bathroom.
Ron pulled away from the bed and turned, scrubbing his hands across his eyes viciously.
When Harry rejoined them, Ron was pacing at the foot of the bed, clearly still upset.
"I know how you feel," Harry said evenly, and for a second Ron shot him an incredulous look, but then reconsidered who this was coming from.
"Ron, I've killed people. More than one. Several in fact. Some during the war and some since." His voice betrayed nothing. He stood with his feet solidly under him, his hands in his pockets, looking every inch the experienced soldier. "What makes me different from the people I've killed is that I didn't want to kill them. I did it because I had no other choice."
Ron opened his mouth to respond, but Harry cut him off. "I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that you made the choice to let him drown. That you could have saved him. But you saw the opportunity to let him die and you took it. And now you're afraid that you've lost something of yourself or that you've taken on a bit of the monster you killed. You're not sure you're fit to be around, fit to be loved, fit to be trusted." Ron turned away, not looking at either of them. His hands were fisted in his hair and she knew he was close to breaking.
"It wasn't the same as in the war." Ron started, his voice edgy. "I'm sure I killed people then, but everything was so fast, and there was no time to see what had happened. You just moved on," he said desperately. "This was...it was so close. And I just stood there and watched."
Harry nodded his head and listened. "Ok then. You think you did the wrong thing?" and he waited for Ron to respond. Finally Ron gave a stiff nod. "So, let's say he got a better hit with that first curse and killed you. What do you think he would have done after that? Do you think he would have just left? What if your mother or Fleur had come down to help you? What would he have done then?" Ron's face was getting more twisted as Harry forced these `what ifs' at him.
"What if the girls had been out walking with you?" Harry said quietly.
Ron turned red, fury written all over his face. "He wouldn't have touched them!" he roared.
"Why? Why wouldn't he have touched them?" Harry pushed, "You're out by the pond, carrying the baby, Victoire's playing in the reeds. Do you think he would have spared them? They meant nothing to him. Two very small speed bumps on his way to his goal," Harry said, almost cruelly.
And Ron lost it. He was toe to toe with Harry. "I would have killed him!" he shouted, with such force it reverberated around the room.
But Harry wasn't through yet. "And would he have deserved it?"
"Yes!" Ron said immediately, without hesitation.
Harry didn't move back. He let Ron hang on that moment before continuing, "So why is it ok for you to kill him for threatening your family, but not ok for you to let him die when he tried to kill you?"
Ron was breathing hard, and it wasn't clear if he had heard Harry. Then he staggered back until he hit the wall and his knees gave out. He slid down and ended up on the floor with a thud, shock evident on his face.
It was like time stood still in the room. Hermione was frozen on the bed while Harry had been extracting this epiphany from Ron. She hadn't dared move or make a sound in fear of breaking the moment.
Harry moved to the foot of the bed and sank down on it. Everything it had taken in him to push Ron was now gone, and he looked pale and haunted.
Without thought Hermione pushed the covers away and slowly lowered herself to the floor, first using the bed and then Harry's bent legs for support as she made her way towards Ron.
There were three steps of open floor she had to cross to get to him, but it didn't even register with her. Her legs were shaky but she kept her balance, and when she reached Ron she only needed to grip his shoulder briefly before she managed to turn around and slide down the wall next to him.
Ron didn't acknowledge her presence. He sat like a statue, head resting on his palms while his fingers were clenched in his hair, staring straight ahead, not blinking.
With only some effort, Hermione reached her arm up and wrapped it around Ron's shoulders, tugging gently until he tipped sideways into her lap. He came easily, his head pressed against her stomach and she absently stroked his hair while they were still.
The silence floated around them until she broke it by calling Harry's name. He hadn't moved from his place at the end of the bed, and she called him twice more before he reacted.
He blinked owlishly behind his glasses, unable to focus on her at first, and then he realized with a start where she was.
" `Mione, what are you doing?" he asked, beginning to come towards her but she kept him back with a look and a shake of her head.
"Harry," she said softly and slowly, "I need you to do something for me."
He just looked at her expectantly. She licked her lips once before continuing. "I'm going to ask something of you, and I'm going to need you to trust me."
His gaze never wavered. "Anything. You know that."
She gave him a small smile. "I need you to contact Luna Lovegood and invite her into the house. And you need to bring her here now."
Harry's brow crinkled in confusion. "Luna?"
Hermione nodded. "Trust me."
Harry got to his feet and ran a hand over her head before he exited. "Take care of him," he said simply. She could see the strain around his eyes and how much he didn't want to leave her.
Hermione didn't move. Even though the position wasn't terribly comfortable and the wall was cold against her back, she sat, never stopping the reassuring motion of her hand. Ron's shoulder was unfortunately placed right where her wound had been, but the low ache was tolerable.
She lost track of time. Her hand on his head was hypnotic and she allowed her mind to go blank.
Hermione didn't hear the door open or anyone walk in. Suddenly, crouched right in front of them was the unchanged face of Luna Lovegood.
"Hello, Hermione," Luna said in her familiar lilting voice.
"Hello, Luna," she replied.
Luna reached out and took Ron's hand in hers, but he tried to pull away and turned his head into Hermione's stomach like a child trying to hide.
"Come on, Ronald," she said gently with a small tug, but he still resisted.
"Go with Luna, Ron." Hermione gave his shoulder a small shake, but still he didn't move.
"Ronald, you need to come with me. Hermione's hurting and sitting on the floor isn't doing her any good," Luna said, and Hermione wondered how she could possibly know.
Slowly Ron began to lift his head and then he let Luna pull him to his feet. He didn't seem to be seeing anything as she lead him from the room. Right before they reached the door, Luna looked over at Hermione and mouthed, "Thank you."
Hermione heard Harry direct Luna to Ron's room. Then the door shut and they were alone.
She let her eyes close and her head fall back. She hadn't moved because she wasn't sure she could get up on her own.
Harry moved across the floor, and then an arm was behind her back and under her legs. He picked her up and carried her back to the bed.
"You shouldn't have gotten up," he said, but he wasn't upset.
"Had to," was her reply, and he knew she was right.
When he placed her on the bed and straightened up, she protested. "No, stay with me, please."
Harry didn't respond but sat against the pillows before pulling her towards him, her legs draped over his lap, head fitting against his shoulder.
"Better?" he murmured against her hair, hands skimming up and down her arm.
"Perfect," she replied with a contented sigh. A thought suddenly hit her and she stiffened. "But Harry, we haven't talked...I shouldn't have…"
Harry cut her off. "We'll talk, but we're both exhausted, and after that I could use some peace. Also, I'd like Ron to be here when we go over the rest, and he can't do that right now."
Hermione nodded and then absently played with the buttons on his shirt before working up the courage to ask him something.
"Harry?" she said finally.
He looked down at her in response.
"Would you kiss me?" But she didn't even get a chance to finish the question before his hand was cupping her jaw and his mouth slanted over hers.
He wasn't gentle. The kiss was desperate and scared. It was three days of fear and wondering if she'd ever wake up again. She let him take it, and when he pulled back breathlessly and pushed his forehead into hers she promised she'd never do that to him again.
They sat like that for a long time until he pulled her down to rest on his chest and his chin settled on her head. She wasn't sure he was going to sleep since he kept trailing a hand up and down her arm, the other protectively covering the site of her wound. Content for the moment, she drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat.