by Jema
AN: Alright, I admit it, this is nothing more than a fluffy, hopelessly romantic, dramatic, more than likely non-canon Harry Potter fic. I also admit that I am a Hermione/Harry shipper through and through. Don't try to tell me that they don't make sense as a couple, or that Ginny and Harry are meant to be, or that Ron and Hermione are meant to be; I don't care if JK Rowling writes that Harry and Ginny get married in the final book, but for me, it will always be Harry + Hermione.
Okay, now that that is out in the open, this story takes place after Harry's final, victorious battle with Voldemort, and his recovery. Like I said, it is probably non-canon, but whatever.
Chapter 1
On that mysterious, long ago day when Harry Potter received his lighting scar and the dreaded wizard faded away, much celebrating went on in the wizarding world. But now that Harry's scar had disappeared, those celebrations were nothing in comparison to the joyous occasions now being held all over the world. In China, the chinese wizards dressed in decadent robes and marched in the streets behind massive paper dragons. In America, muggles were complaining in every zip code about the excessive noise and firecrackers being shot in their neighbor's residences. In Brazil, medicine men painted their entire bodies with ceremonial paint and danced in front of crackling magical fires. And in England, less than a mile away from where Harry was sitting, witches and wizards were dancing and making toasts and singing aloud, praises to the magnificient Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was not fully aware of the celebrations, but even if he was, he probably wouldn't have given it much thought. Harry's eyes stared vacantly over the gray-colored, choppy waves of the sea. The horizon was smudged with a heavy mist and Harry was wearing one of the sweaters Mrs. Weasley had knitted him against the cold, stinging wind.
Harry had lost all memory of his final battle with Voldemort. The battle and the illness he suffered following the battle had wiped his memory as clean as a slate. Harry vaguely remembered hearing one of his healers whisper to Mr. Weasley it was for the best. "If the lad could remember, he may be driven mad. Best not to encourage him. Probably best if he could put all this behind him."
But could Harry put it all behind him? True his final battle was a black area in his memory, but the lack of knowledge was almost as terrifying as facing the truth.
Hermoine was standing beside him, looking down at him with a concerned expression that Harry was beginning to become accoustumed to seeing on her face. She sat beside him on the cool sand and drew her sweater closer around her shoulders. "Ron's making us dinner," she said with a hint of a smile in her voice.
"Oh, boy," Harry laughed. "Do we have to eat it?"
"He wanted to try cooking in the muggle way, I guess from watching me do it, but don't worry, we'll magic up some food if it's too terrible."
"Good." Harry's laugh was like Harry now, thin and waxing, edged with pain.
It had been Hermoine's idea that the three of them spend some time at the seashore. When the final battle had passed and Voldemort was confirmed to have been destroyed completely this time, she and Ron searched the forbidden forest franically for Harry. They found him after three days, huddled forlornly on the forest floor. Hermione rushed to his side, her eyes blurred with tears and with a shaking hand felt for his pulse. Hermione wailed, her grief-stricken cry shaking the silence of the forest. "He's dead, Ron," she cried hysterically, choking on her sobs. "He's dead, he's dead.."
Ron pressed his fingers into Harry's neck, his own eyes cloudy with tears slipping over his freckled cheeks. "Hermione, Hermione," Ron reached his hand out to her, trying to calm her. "Hermione, he has a pulse. It's faint but it's there. Come on, we've got to get him to the hospital wing."
He seemed so small in the hospital bed, the only bed occupied in the entire wing. Harry was so thin, his face devoid of all color, his eyelids bruised and twitching, his white hands clutching the bedsheets in pain. Only then did they realize that Harry looked oddly different. His trademark scar, the lightning shape, had disappeared from his forehead leaving smooth, pinkened skin. Professor McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief when Hermione brought this to her attention. "It's really over," she whispered, twisting her thin hands. "This means Voldemort is really gone."
They didn't have time to revel in this information. Harry was clinging to life desperately. Madame Pomprey dabbed the corners of her eyes as she told Professor McGonagall, "We'll need to send for more healers. I've done everything I can..."
And so ten of the best healers in the wizarding world arrived at Hogwarts, gathering around Harry, constantly creating a wall of lime green healers' robes. Ron and Hermione caught fragments of their conversation as they huddled on a bed near Harry's. "Serious curse work, perhaps an infusion of anti-venom needed, rarest infection, loss of lifeblood energy..."
Hermione stared blankly into space and Ron put his arm around her comfortingly. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat near to them, the only sound in the room was Mrs. Weasley's magical knitting. Ginny sat by one the windows crying silently and Fred and George sat on the floor near her. Ms. McGonagall paced quietly, wringing her hands and Madame Pomprey stood near the healers, ready to assist in any way.
They spent days waiting, Hermione didn't know how long exactly, but then the healers announced that Harry had stablized. "Now," said one of the healers. "We let him rest. It's all we can do now."
Hermione asked, "When will he wake up?"
The healer smiled at Hermione sympathetically. "There's no way we can say. It could be weeks, or tomorrow, or.." The healer suddenly stopped and smiling weakily left the room.
"Or what?" Ron wondered.
Hermione answered him quietly, "Or not at all."
Chapter 2 on the way! ;)