Chapter 3: Try as he Might
For the rest of the night, the boys took turns keeping watch, keeping an eye on the fire, and taking short sleeping spells which quite resembled naps more than anything else.
In the morning, while Harry was fixing breakfast, Ron went into check on/wake up Hermione. "Hermione? Hermione, it's time for breakfast,'' he said quietly. When there was no response, he said it a bit louder. He got a mere groan in reply. This time he shook her slightly, resulting in another moan. The more his gentle shakings increased, the more of an incomprehensible groan he got. Finally, he put his hand to her forehead, something wasn't right. It was on fire!
"Harry!" he called. He popped his head out of the tent's flaps. "Harry, I think you'd better come here.'' Harry dropped the forked stick that he had been using to poke at the fire, got up, and ran in at the sight of Ron's worried face.
"What is it?" he asked. "It's Hermione, she's burning up.'' Harry went and checked for himself, as if Ron had been imagining it or something. "Hermione?" he said.
She moved a bit, seemingly in pain. "Hermione, are you alright?" it felt like he was asking her this for the millionth time. "I don't know,'' Hermione replied in a cross between a groan and a groggy tone. "Mmmmmm, it hurts.''
"What hurts?" Harry asked, still looking at her even though her eyes were closed.
He noticed her hand touching her thigh. He touched it. "Does this hurt?" he asked. Merely more groaning.
Instead of an inpain groan for that area, it seemed to be more of an "I'm still in pain, but no'' sort of groan. Harry kept running his hand down her leg. Asking her if it
hurt every now and then.
When he touched her ankle and shin region, she jumped. "Is this what hurts?" he asked, running his hand over the spot again, just to make sure. Her back arched a little. "Mmmmm,'' she replied.
Harry rolled up her pants legs, gently, Ron looking over his shoulder, willing him to go faster. All up and down her shin was swollen. It was bright red, it looked rather raw with pricks and slight cuts. "I'll go get the Dittany," Harry said. He jumped up and ran to the back of the tent, leaving Ron with Hermione. Harry rummaged through Hermione's hideous, bottomless bag.
Finally, he found it! He ran back over and poured some on the wounds, most of it was extra, it really only took a few drops, but he didn't want to miss any of it or not have it heal as well since it had been so long. The cuts soon vanished. Oddly, Hermione didn't say a word.
"Hermione?" Harry asked. "Harry, does she look at bit off to you?" Ron asked. Harry looked at her, studying every feature on her face, something was definitely NOT right. "Yeah, but I'm not sure why,'' he concluded.
He felt her forehead, the fever had dissipated. He let his hand slide down the side of her face. When it passed her cheek, Harry felt nothing. He touched it again, something was still off. He put his hand under her nose, she wasn't breathing!
"Hermione?" he put his head to her chest, there was no heartbeat! He started CPR as best he could, he tried. "Ron take over control of her heartbeat,'' he told him. Ron's face was twisted and contorted in fear. He nodded, though. He put his hand on her chest and concentrated. Harry kept working with her breathing.
After about half an hour, Ron stopped. His reddened face and shimmering eyes
turned to look upon Harry. He couldn't bring himself to say it, he merely shook his head.
Harry's heart nearly stopped as his blood ran cold. No, he wouldn't let her! He kept trying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron close his eyes, allowing some tears to roll down his cheeks, gaining their momentum as they went.
Out of breath, Harry kept trying. She wouldn't give up on either of them, right? He thought about what she might be saying right about now. She would be lecturing him on how illogical it was to keep trying, and to rest because he was just wasting his magic, but he couldn't, he wouldn't stop trying.
That's when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Reflexively he shrugged it off and looked behind himself to see who it was. The only problem was, nobody was there. "Harry, it's okay, stop.'' Harry's head whipped back around. That voice, it was too familiar.
He got a sense, a gut feeling, that it was in fact time to give up. He let himself fall back into a seated position and let out a long sigh. He sniffed, a tear rolled down his face. Part of him kept saying, ''no, don't give up. She can't really be...'' while another part was completely calm with the situation, which made him sick.
A while later, Harry didn't know exactly how much later it was, he had lost track of time, just starring at Hermione, Ron suggested that they try to get some sleep. Harry agreed that they should, but doubted that they actually would.