DISCLAIMER: Still don't own anything.
"He needs to be talked to."
"I know." I thought of my mother's rose garden back home, back when I was a child and she sang to the beautiful blossom-laden bushes.
"He won't get better on his own."
"I know." I imagined him lost in a thicket of roses; they were overgrown and armed with massive thorns that tore into his skin.
"He needs your support."
"I know." he was growing out of a pot, feet rooted in rich, black soil, and I was tying a small post to him to keep him upright like a sapling.
"Miss Granger, are you listening or simply agreeing to shut me up faster?" healer Connover folded her arms across her chest into a tight knot. "I understand you may be a very prominent professor-"
Narrowing my eyes, I stared stonily at the heavyset woman before me. Her jaw was set crookedly, a look I knew meant that she was getting impatient. The healer and I hadn't gotten along well since the beginning, over four months ago, when we first brought him in.
"I understand the implications quite well, thank you," I said calmly; my gaze meandered over to the two-way mirror, through which I could see him looking forlornly at the floor. "I'll be taking him now if that's all right with you, ma'am."
Healer Connover remained silent for once and I took it as her assent. She wouldn't stop me now; no one would, save Merlin himself. I quietly opened the door to his room and knocked lightly to gain his attention. His eyes flitted to me at once, their dulled color shining strangely in the fluorescent light, for once holding familiarity in place of fear.
I was hoping for a smile, but he simply stared, wary. Forcing a small smile of my own, I moved closer and took his hand slowly so he wouldn't be startled. "We're going now, dear. Are you ready?"
"I can leave?" his voice was tired and rusty and spoke of its months of disuse. "Will they let me leave, Hermione?" he seemed panicky all of a sudden. I watched, worry rising slowly in my throat, as his breathing escalated and his hands began to tremble. "Can I leave?"
"Yes. Yes, you can leave. It's all right." I hated seeing him like this, so afraid. If we hadn't been neglectful of him, he wouldn't have ended up here in the first place, though, so we had only ourselves to blame. And I can assure you that no one - no one - felt as badly about his condition as I did. "You're coming with me, okay? You'll stay with me."
His words were small, low, back to their sullen pitch. "Okay."
I led him out past Connover, glaring hard at her as we passed, and stole a glance back at the few possessions he'd garnered during his stay: a locked case for his wand, two changes of clothes, his medications, several books I'd sent to him to ease the time. Since the standoff a year ago, my friend had retreated into himself and eventually vanished. By the time we'd found him, he'd been reduced to a shivering mess held captive in an old broken down house in the Irish countryside. The order, furious, dissolved into chaos and we were left without an organized defense group. Unless, of course, if you counted the then-graduating seventh years: most of the Gryffindor, a couple Ravenclaws, several Hufflepuffs, and Draco Malfoy. A young Auror from Ireland also joined us after she stumbled upon the holding cells. My friend hadn't been the only one; he'd just been the only one left alive.
"Hermione." we were in my car now, on the road, windshield wipers on to repel the rain. I drove a Muggle car so as not to attract suspicion. Music from the radio played softly in the enclosed space to ease any uncertainties he had.
"Hmm?"
"Am I still friends with-"
"Harry now isn't the time," I whispered softly. The redlight shivering above us wouldn't change, no matter how hard I glared at it. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat beside me, as if ashamed at being reprimanded. "What I mean is, now's not a good time. Everyone will be at the house, okay? I'll introduce you when we get there."
He didn't reply, turned his gaze instead to the window. Shame and fear clouded the car.
"It's all right; I didn't mean to be so short with you. I'm sorry." he mumbled something to the steamed glass, but I didn't catch it. I let it go. "We'll be there in fifteen. Are you hungry? I can call ahead. I'm sure the girls wouldn't mind-"
"No," and it was the only word I'd heard him speak with confidence in a long, long time. "I'm fine."
Smiling slightly, I pulled onto the highway. "Good."
Please note that the first two chapters were originally written using all lowercase letters as the mood struck. Content may be edited for proper grammar (i.e. capitalization) if time permits.
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