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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does.

Chapter Three

A Hole in Your Heart

Six Months Earlier

"NOOOOOOO!"

Hermione woke from a light sleep by a strangled scream. 'Not again. No. Harry!' she thought to herself and threw back her covers, running out of her room and next door to Harry's. She turned the knob and threw open the door. "Harry!" she called out immediately.

He was thrashing around in his bed, yelling. He was tangled in his bed sheets, struggling to get out of them. "No! Don't kill them! Don't kill them! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

She ran to his bedside. "Harry! Harry, wake up!" She shook his shoulder, trying to rouse him from his nightmare. "Harry!"

His eyes snapped open and he gasped for air. He shot up like a bolt in bed, nearly crashing his head into hers. He panted, his breath rapid. Almost hyperventilating. Cold sweat soaked his shirt and face. "Shhh, it's okay. Calm down. Calm down, Harry," she whispered, trying to soothe him. She ran her hand through his hair. "It's okay. I'm here."

Tears gathered in his eyelids. She watched as he tried not to let them fall. But to no avail. He burst into tears, burying his head in her shoulder as he sobbed. "Why did they all have to die?"

Hermione held him against her, rocking him gently, rubbing his back soothingly. She, too, felt tears well up in her eyes. It had been nearly five years since the War had ended and Harry was still having nightmares. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here. It's going to be okay, Harry."

After a few minutes, Harry lifted his head from her shoulder, his breathing was back to normal. "Excuse me," he said and she scooted over on the bed to let him out. He untangled the sheets from around him and stood up from the bed. He crisscrossed his arms, grabbing the hem of his shirt, and peeled it off of his skin, revealing his toned and bruised, muscled back, which showed that he had taken quite a beating during his last Auror mission. He tossed his sweat-soaked shirt into his hamper and walked over to his dresser, taking out a fresh, clean one.

As he put it over his head, Hermione asked him, "Are you okay?" 'Stupid question' she thought. Of course he wasn't okay. "I guess you forgot to take a Dreamless Sleep Potion."

"I thought I would try to sleep without it. I can't be dependent on them forever. Didn't work, I guess," he turned around back toward her, wiping his eyes, trying to dry them of his tears. She stood up and walked over to him. He refused to look at her. Ashamed. "I meant to cast a Silencing Charm before I went to sleep but I forgot. I'm sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry about it," she said immediately. It was true that she had had nightmares, too, but they had stopped several months after the Final Battle. "I'm a light sleeper anyway." She sighed and asked him, "Do you want to talk about it?"

When he didn't respond, Hermione opened her mouth to say "You don't have to" but he began, "They're about the War. Normally, I just relive watching people die, like Snape and Dobby, and I even see the ones I never saw die, like Colin Creevey, Fred, Remus, Tonks. Sometimes I dream about Bellatrix torturing you and listening to your screams at Malfoy Manor. Most of the time, though...something...more terrible plagues me at night. It's interesting how it's the things that never happened scare me the most. The unknown. What could have been. Over and over and over and over again like a movie reel, I see you dying. I see you bleed and look up at me and you ask me 'why?' Why did I let you die? Why did I let everyone else die? When I wake up, I'm terrified because I can't believe that I let someone who is so smart and beautiful and kind and loving die. And I begin to hate myself. And sometimes I want to go to your room and make sure it wasn't real. But I don't because I don't want to wake you. I don't know what I would have done if you had died in the War. I probably would've given up much sooner than this. I probably would have thrown myself off of the Astronomy Tower."

"Harry, don't say that."

"It's true, though," he replied sharply. "You and Teddy are the only good things in my life right now. The only things that keep me going. But at night, the nightmares take over and try to keep me from being happy." He rubbed his face with his hands roughly and then fisted his hair tightly. Then he began to hit his head with his fists, tears leaking out again. His face scrunched up trying to stop them from falling. It didn't work. "I just want them to stop," he sobbed pitifully.

Hermione grabbed his wrists to get him to stop hurting himself. "Hey, hey, hey. Harry. Shh. It's okay." She embraced him and held him to her chest tightly. "I'm right here. I'm very much alive, okay? It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself."

"I can't do this anymore, Hermione."

"Can't do what anymore?"

He lifted his head from her shoulder and turned around, walking toward the window. He couldn't look at her. He didn't want to see the pity in her eyes when he told her.

"Feel."

That was when the tears began to flow freely from Hermione's eyes. Her heart ached for him. He was a broken man and she wanted to help put him back together but she didn't know how. She had tried everything to help him cope. She had told him that the survivors of the people that lost loved ones didn't blame him either. That they looked at him as someone who saved them. But he could not be moved. Harry's pain was a kind that Healers could not heal. She could not believe it had gone as far as this. "Harry...you can't just not feel anymore." She chuckled half-heartedly. The notion of not feeling was absurd.

"It hurts too much when I feel. I can't feel happy anymore. I don't even remember what it was like. All I feel is despair and guilt. You tell me not to blame myself. That it wasn't my fault. But I can't think that way, Hermione. I just can't. There's something inside of me that won't let me. I'm drowning in a dark, depressed abyss of anguish and I don't know how to get out. And it keeps getting worse. It's like I have a hole in my heart, Hermione. A hole that keeps getting bigger and bigger. It's like there are demons inside of me eating away at it, taking everything that was good and replacing them with everything that is bad. And I don't know what to do to heal it. And if I can't heal it, then I'll just have to get rid of my emotions. Because...I don't know how I can go on. I fear I'm too far gone in this abyss. No one can save me. Not even you."

Hermione felt like Harry had just stabbed her in the heart. How dare he say that? How dare he say she can't help him? Maybe that was her Healer voice talking. But she wanted him to know that anyone can be helped. "It's not too late for you to be saved, Harry. It's never too late." She wiped her eyes. "Tell you what, I'll stay with you tonight, okay? If you feel scared, wake me up. Don't feel guilty about waking me up. Just do it."

He nodded and climbed back into his bed. "Thank you." Hermione crawled in after him, spooning her front to his back. She reached around and grabbed his hand and held it tight. "It's going to be okay, Harry. I'm right here. I won't let go. I won't give up on you."

Soon, she heard his even breathing and knew he was asleep. A tear rolled down her cheek as she realized something. Something major. And scary.

Harry had lost the will to live.

Present Day

Hermione remembered that night. She was so scared for him. She was scared he was suicidal. And now, here he was: dying with a hole in his heart because he was trying to protect the innocent. She honestly didn't know if she could love him more. He didn't want other people to suffer so he suffered for them.

As she finished bandaging his chest, she heard a knock on the hospital room door. "Yes?" she called out. The door opened and Torrens stood there. She had Hermione's bottomless bag in her hands. "We got everyone stable. A few are going into surgery. I thought you might want to change out of your Healer robes so I brought you your bag from the locker room."

"Thank you, Gemma. That was kind of you."

"How's he doing?" she asked walking in and giving the bag down to Hermione, who took it and went into the bathroom to change, while Torrens looked after Harry for a moment.

"I just finished bandaging him up. He's stable, which I hope he stays that way. And he has minimal bleeding so I'll have to administer Blood Replenishing Potions every now and then," she answered through the door.

"So, you're going to talk to him?"

Hermione walked out the bathroom, now in a pair of comfortable jeans, a lavender-colored shirt, and a grey hooded jacket. "Yeah. I need to talk to him to try to get him to heal himself. So, could you look after my patient, Lucy, for me, please? In 412?"

"Of course. I'd be happy to."

"Thank you."

"Good luck." With that, Torrens left the room, shutting the door.

Hermione sat down in the chair next to the bed and got to work. She looked at his troubled and stressed face.

"Harry, it's me, Hermione. I don't know if you heard me before but there's a hole in your heart. I put you under the Core Strengthening Spell. What it does is allows the person to heal themselves through magic. And...I need you to do that for me, okay? I need you to heal yourself. I know that you've lost the will to live but I'm going to try to change your mind. I'm going to talk to you. Try to help you through this. So, just listen for me. Please."

She took a moment to gather her thoughts. Thinking of what to say to him.

Trying to decide where to start.

"Remember that night when you finally admitted to me you didn't want to feel anymore? I was so scared. I was scared to admit it. I was scared because I was starting to feel that there was no way I could help you. I was scared because you felt like you were too far gone. You were dreaming about things that never happened. You were feeling things that you should not feel. You were feeling loss for people that you had not lost. But, Harry, emotions are what make you who you are. Anger, grief, sadness, fear. Yes, to not want to feel those feelings would be an absolute godsend. But if we can't feel...then what's the point? What's the point of living? You disgusted me that night, Harry. I never want you to give up. I never want you to feel like you don't want to feel. I don't fancy a zombie for a best friend, you know? You need to learn to let the good emotions overshadow the bad. Happiness, joy, hope...love. Love, especially. Love conquers all. Love is what gets us through the day. It what makes us go on even when every other part of ourselves are telling us to give up. And, Harry, I need you to know that you are loved."

Hermione glanced up at the suspended Diagnosis Spell above his chest. She frowned.

The hole had not budged. It did not show signs of sealing up. It was still the same size.

"You should know me by now. I don't give up. So, hold on, Harry. I'm just getting started."

TBC...

I know. It's probably not as powerful as you would have thought but I have a big monologue in mind for Hermione to say so stay tuned. It's gonna be awesome.

Pleez review!

DREWHHR