A/N: Oh wow, you guys! This fanfic has over 10,000 views and over 100 followers! As a person who has never had more than 500 views on a story, this is incredibly amazing. I've realized that the "book" text is unreadable on some computers. I've replaced it with normal text. Hope that helps! Thanks for your support. :) Okay, back to the story.
Amber cleared her throat. "Yes. I do believe you and Ms. Granger are– that you have formed The Bond."
There was a long moment of tense silence. Then, Harry broke out laughing. He gasped for air, clutching his sides, tears running down his face. "You..." he rasped. "You... think... we're... Soul..." He couldn't stop laughing.
Attempting to catch his breath, Harry wiped the tears from his jade-green eyes and noticed Amber staring at him intently. She frowned. "I know it's difficult to take it, Mr. Potter, but-"
"Difficult to take in?" Harry gasped. "She's my best friend, and she's brilliant, but..." He paused, breathing heavily. "I could never... think of her that way. I mean, she has a boyfriend, anyway, and besides, she's like my sister- not like other girls, not like that..." he trailed off lamely.
Amber shook her head helplessly. "I can't interpret your relationship- all I'm saying is that
the evidence says that the love shield, the behavioral change, and the necklace were caused by The Bond-perhaps the first such Bond in centuries."
"This is mental," Harry muttered darkly, his thoughts racing. Of course I love Hermione- we're like siblings. We're best friends. But it's not-er, passion, right? It's not like that- I don't fancy her, I mean. "Fine," he conceded slowly. "So say this, erm, Bond thing is- is real." He struggled with saying the words. "What does this have to do with waking her up?"
Amber lowered her eyes. "I... I'm afraid I don't know." She sighed sadly. "Mr. Potter, I cannot wake her up. None of us can. The only person who can wake her up is herself."
Harry shook his head. "But there must be something that the Bond or whatever can do, right?" He paused, then jokingly asked, "What about true love's kiss?"
Amber widened her eyes in confusion. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I am unaware of this which you speak."
Harry chuckled unapologetically. "You weren't raised in the muggle world, were you?" Amber opened her mouth to answer, but he waved her off. "That was a rhetorical question."
A silence blanketed the room. Harry gazed at the navy walls, taking interest in a portrait of a young man in a dark red coat. He was smiling gallantly, his happiness apparent. It struck Harry that perhaps someone might paint a portrait of Hermione if she died. Suddenly, his throat closed on itself.
Trying to prepare himself for the worst, he tried to imagine life without her. What had he and Ron done first year before they were friends? His head ached, he couldn't remember.
Second year, he thought frantically. We survived when she was petrified. We found the Chamber of Secrets? Didn't we? Harry blinked. No, no. That's wrong. Hermione was the one who figured out it was a basilisk. Hermione realized it was using the pipes to move around. We couldn't do this without her. We never could.
He stood suddenly, nearly knocking the desk over. "I have to go," he muttered. "I– I have to go!"
Room 394 again. Harry's hand shook as it hovered over the handle.
"Hey, Harry." He turned around to see Ron behind him. The two boys stared at each other for a second.
"She isn't gonna make it, is she?" Ron said finally.
Harry shook his head. "You can't say that, Ron."
"But–"
"No. No. It won't happen. It can't happen." Furiously blinking away tears, Harry turned away from his best mate.
"Harry, don't pretend I'm not upset about this! She is my girlfriend!"
For some reason, Harry's stomach twisted, doing backflips. He swallowed, hard, but the feeling didn't go away. He clenched his fists and pivoted back to Ron. "I– I'm sorry." Gritting his teeth, he grimaced. "'Mione's hurt and I can't do anything about it– I can't do anything."
Ron tentatively put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Er– I know, Harry. We're completely helpless without her, aren't we?"
A smile flitted across Harry's face, briefly. "Completely." Pausing, Harry looked at the red-head. I have to tell him, Harry thought miserably. My god, he's going to kill me. How can I say this without making it sound like I'm not in love with his girlfriend? "Look, Ron," he began slowly. "There's something you have to know about Hermione–"
"Harry? Ron?" A voice queried behind them. The two boys spun around to find the source of the noise.
Not believing his eyes, Harry blinked several times, but nothing changed. Swaying before them, a bushy-haired, wide-eyed young girl stood in the opening of Room 394.
It was Hermione.