He wanted to put her down and collapse on the ground so that he could escape into the corners of his mind. No longer was he strong enough, no longer was he scared. But his heart told him otherwise. He could see the light, its size greatening, and he wondered, if someone was there waiting, he wondered if someone had noticed their absence. But it didn't matter if someone was waiting, he just needed to get there, he knew that there were people sleeping. He wouldn't hesitate to scream again. The closer he got the lighter she seemed, her frame so limp in his arms. He fumbled through the cloud's tears, making his way to the Burrow. His legs were now holding him back; it was like dragging two stones. His back cracked with ever movement. The future seemed so out of reach, something that he couldn't even picture in his mind. Right now his thoughts were so cluttered, so mislead with the recent events, that he couldn't tell what was rational, he couldn't tell what was right. So close, so close, he could see the door, the light. The metal of the doorknob scraped the palm of his hand and there was a great thud, she had slipped almost gracefully from his arms. He looked down at her, searching for her body, but then he saw nothing. The ground was hard and as he met it, his head crashed into the ground. His mind went astray, his thoughts went blank.

Two bodies strewn across the ground; limp and what seemed lifeless. All they had left behind was the falling of their frame, the noise had echoed across the land, fitting easily with the rain. Water leaped and bounded across their flesh, dampening their cloths, washing away their existence. All that was left was their hands, clasped so loosely in each others.

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His eyes wanted to open, to search for his surroundings, but they stayed closed. He felt the comfort of a fluffy pillow molding to the bumps and curves of his head. He felt the blankets gathered around his feet and the mattress on his back. The intent breathing was what kept him from slipping away. It rose and fell with the beat of his heart, deeper and deeper. He could feel their eyes scan him several times, resting solemnly on his face. Opening his eyes, the light escaped into his mind. And there he saw a worried beyond repair Ron, his hair askew and his pajamas wrinkled. Ron noticed that Harry had woken up, but failed to utter a word, failed to notify the others, instead he waited for Harry to speak.

"What happened?" He knew Harry would answer.

"It was a trap, it wasn't the Order, it wasn't a Horcrux, it was nothing. Nothing other than a trap." He started as he sat up nice and strong, feeling the bend of his neck, rubbing his eyes and removing the blackest. He had the sudden urge to stand, but he didn't dare, he knew his legs wouldn't hold, his weight was too much for even his own legs to bear. And then it came shooting back, the memories from the night, the feeling of the rain dripping down his back, the bleeding in his shoulder, and barely escaping death. He had apparated, something he didn't know he could do so well, it came naturally in the spell of danger, as if his first instincts were to get out, to wherever, to whenever. "Hermione," He whispered, "HERMIONE," He yelled, pushing off the side of his bed, he sprawled onto the floor. It was no use; he couldn't even support his own body. He looked at Ron who was starting to speak, but he roared, obscuring Ron's words ever so fiercely, "HERMIONE." He screamed into the motionless air that had a tight hold on him, choking his existence. He heard the rushing of footsteps and the opening of the door, which greeted him with a worried expression lying on the face of her. The girl he hurt, the girl he had left behind; Ginny.

"Harry, you're up." She hurried over, hugging him hard, holding him close. The scent of flowers lurked into his senses even as she pulled away. "Oh, Harry, we thought you wouldn't wake up." She sighed with relief, gracefully stopping her hair from concealing her red and puffy eyes by pushing it behind her ear.

Harry didn't hesitate before asking, "Where is she." He waited; he waited for Ginny to respond. But she didn't, she just glanced nervously at Ron, her arms resting patiently at her side.

"She's downstairs, she isn't doing all that well." There was such sorrow weighing down his voice, as if the unspeakable had happened, as if there was such chaos in the world that nothing could compare. Ron knew what Harry wanted; he knew what his friend was thinking. He ambled over to Harry, almost tripping a few times and hoisted him up against his side. He then proceeded to bring him down the stairs. Each step strained both him and Ron, both giving up all their strength when they had so little. The last step brought a floor, cold on Harry's bare feet, but he didn't notice. He saw her, wrapped in blankets and bandaged. It was his fault she was laying there; it was his fault that she was in so much danger. What a fool he was to think he could ever love, that he could ever care without it being taken from him. But of course she wasn't gone yet, but he would never forgive himself. He would never forget this. When everyone had left the room, he saw his chance. He slipped away from their attention and propped himself up on the coffee table stationed across from the couch. She was so peaceful when asleep, so simple, a side that she had hidden. He had never thought she could be so free, so ridden of the thoughts that brought her down day after day. But as he watched her body rise and fall with every breath he had no doubts she was free right now. Free over her thoughts, free of her mind, sleeping so quietly when all this danger hovered over the land.

He heard footsteps behind him, slowly inching themselves closer. They sat down next to Harry. He smelt the all too familiar scent of flowers as it glided into his mind, pulling him back into reality. She wrapped her hand around his, stroking it slowly, a notion that he knew confirmed she would always be there for him, and no matter what happened. She felt his pain, his regret, his guilt, it weighed heavy on him, and she knew what it was like to feel so responsible. Leaning her shoulder into his, she ran her hand down his thigh, hoping he would remember what had happened last year, hoping she would restore those broken memories. His eyes lifted from Hermione, resting intently on the open space ahead, not wanting to give in to Ginny right now. This wasn't the time for such actions, such advances. His eyes began to tear, Hermione hadn't moved at all, not one bit since he came down. Maybe this was how she slept, so still, so at peace. He waiting for that sign that would convince him she was fine. That she would come back to him. His heart shook with the pain that would surely accompany such loss, but he was convinced she wouldn't leave him. He needed her.

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A/N: This chapter was also mega short. Thank you for reading, please review. I will continue to write even with the outcome of Deathly Hallows. I won't ruin the story for you if you haven't read it yet. But I will continue this story and I will not mention any spoilers. Once again thank you for reading, I will update soon.