Part IV: Life is just a mirror, and what you see out there, you must first see inside of you.
Hermione was sitting on the floor of her nursery at her mother's manor. It was decorated in shades of pink. Plush toys and stuffed animals were lined across a couple of shelves and upon other shelves stood bedtime story books.
In the center of the room was a white fairy-like wooden cot painted with tiny violet flowers splashed all over the rails. There were a couple of paintings on the walls, one of a unicorn, another of a castle, and others of landscapes filled with dozens of flying butterflies. The dressers were full of neatly folded baby clothes, untouched for about eighteen years. There were trunks filled with baby toys, many of them magical, but most she didn't remember.
She would sit there from time to time trying to remember the memories of her childhood, but none would come to her. The few things that were familiar to her, she didn't know if she actually remembered them of just tried to; it could be just her imagination, because she could see herself as a child playing there, wearing those beautiful dresses, sleeping on that abnormally big crib, but it just was a trick of her mind.
That was one of those days she wanted to remember something.
It had been a couple of hours when Blaise found her in that room and he tiptoed. He sat silently next to her, he didn't comfort her instead he did what she did he sat with his knees against his chest and his back against the wall.
It was a while before one of them spoke.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Blaise asked softly. He didn't need to look at her to know she was shrugging, he didn't even need to look at her to know what was going through her mind at that moment, and he understood the answer although it didn't answer his question directly.
"I wish I could remember something." She said in a whisper.
"Will that help you at all?" he asked. "I remember this room, but I don't have any good memories about it to share with you."
"I don't need your memories, I need my own."
He sighed and remained still. "We could always see some photographs; mother has many albums of you in this room."
"I think I've seen them all already." Her answer was short but the painful tone of her voice would only hurt him more if he looked at the pained expression on her face.
"I wish things could be different."
"Don't we all?" He felt her shrug the answer. He looked uncomfortable, it was unusual of him; he'd always seemed to be confident, strong, imperturbable, unruffled… but now he could barely look into her eyes. "I've been wishing for things to be different for more than a year already; but my wishes changed from time to time… it seems my first ones are coming back to haunt me."
"It's not your fault."
"No, it's his fault." She said tiredly, tired of hearing it, tired of thinking it, tired of reasoning it. "But things could have been different, there's always something that could have been done to prevent that. There are a thousand things I could think of… things I could have done."
"You are not the only one."
"Everyone else seems to know better than me though, what's best for me, what I should do, what I shouldn't do… and every step that I take seems to be wrong."
"Mother does know what's better for you, but that doesn't mean you don't. You've just tried to lead your life your way, there's nothing wrong with that."
"Only harming the ones I love."
"That's not true."
"You can say it as many times as you want, but I won't believe it."
"Suit yourself." He sighed. He turned his head and looked at her. It hurt to to look into her eyes, but he had to do it. The visible pain broke his heart.
"Will you tell me what you two talked about that last time?" Her voice was somehow pleading and demanding Blaise to tell her what had gone on in the room that night. But Blaise was strong enough not to give in, even if the sight of her was tearing him apart, even if what he knew was killing him inside.
"I can't tell you yet." was his only answer. Avoiding the conversation was becoming harder and harder as the days went on.
However, Hermione was expecting that answer. So she averted her gaze from his and looked down to the floor, to the soft white carpet her bare feet were resting on.
"I hate it when you say yet." said she in a low whisper. "It means you are waiting for something, and whatever that is… whatever that is I know it will be bad."
"Probably." He tiredly recognized and got up. Blaise stared at her with troubled eyes for a moment before speaking again, "Potter is waiting for you."
Hermione lifted her chin and looked at him with questioning eyes. Blaise had been there with her for she didn't know how long, and all that time he knew Harry had come and was waiting for her? Her normal first thought would have been to fight with Blaise and question him of his ill manners towards her friend. But today she found that she didn't have the strength to fight or care.
"Send him in." she said.
Blaise left the room with no other word, and only a couple of minutes later Harry entered it. Hermione didn't stand up to greet him; she only turned her head to face him and gave him a weak smile.
Harry looked worried and uncomfortable. He stood at the entrance for a moment, looking at the room, then looking at her. The sight of his friend didn't allow him to smile back, even though he knew what to expect when he had decided to pay her a visit. Even though he wanted to act in a more cheery manner, just so Hermione could think of something different for a minute or two.
"You can sit…"she started slowly. "Unless you would rather stand there."
His answer came in hurried steps; he walked over to her and sat at the same spot Blaise had occupied only moments before. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. Hermione stared at him wondering if she had to command him to speak, and then she realized what the problem was: it was her.
"I know I must be a mess." She said softly and sighed in the same demeanor. In truth, Hermione didn't care what she looked like these days anymore. She hadn't even bothered trying to comb her hair, or putting on any make up at all, dressing herself in Draco's oversized quidditch jersey and sweats.
"No…" He attempted a lie. "You look… it's just that… you remind me of the time we were camping, trying to escape from Voldermort and his deatheaters…"
It was a subject she didn't like to discuss let alone remember especially at a time when she had bigger things to worry over. "Your eyes are so red… Hermione… how long has it been this time?"
"I don't keep count." said Hermione thoughtfully as she stared out of one of the large windows of her former bedroom. "The sun is setting, so I guess it's been about a day."
"You can't read for 24 hours straight, Hermione, even if you are able to recall everything you read… it's no good for your health."
"I don't care."
"Your…" He was about to say 'obsession', but changed his mind, "… research would be much fruitful if you allowed yourself to sleep more than an hour… on a bed… and… have you been eating at all?"
"I've been eating." She said. "Even though I don't really feel like it."
"That's good now if you tried not only to eat, but also to sleep like a normal person…"
"I don't have the time." She interrupted and looked at him desperately. "I don't know how much time I have… nobody knows."
"Look… Hermione, spring is here already, I bet that…"
"That's what he said." She interrupted him again with a trembling voice and tried to suppress the tears that were quickly forming around her eyes. "He said he'd feel better by the time spring came. That the warmer weather and the soft air…" Hermione swiped the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
And Harry decided to change the subject, although he knew it would be of no use, because everything in her life, everything she did, was linked to what was going on with Draco.
"So, what are you doing here?"
"Thinking. Sometimes I come here to think… to reorganize my thoughts… my research, my… everything." She sighed. "Usually when I can't keep on reading anymore, even though I want to… my eyes hurt so much and… I can't focus… I can't see the letters straight anymore… I thought that perhaps if I came here for a while and tried to think of something else… then I'd feel better in order to keep reading. But I can't clear my mind… and I most certainly can't remember anything."
"You'd remember what you've been reading if you slept rather than sit here and stare into the nothingness."
"No, I do remember what I have been reading, simply because I know I haven't read anything of use." She shrugged. "What I mean is I don't remember anything about this room."
"That's not unusual."
"But I want to remember." She complained in a tired and pained voice, hugging her legs closer to her for comfort.
Harry hesitated, but he moved just a little closer to her and put an arm around her shoulders, hoping to comfort her as well. She didn't seem to acknowledge his touch, and Harry thought that was a good reaction, because lately she had simply rejected anyone who tried to touch her, even if it was just an attempt to make her feel better.
"I should feel home in here." Hermione explained after a long pause. "I want to feel home… but I can't do it without him."
"That's the reason you haven't been in Malfoy Manor lately." stated Harry.
She nodded her head. "Everything there reminds me of him and I can't focus. I can't even manage to sleep on any room because I don't have him by my side…"
She paused again, "… So I came here in hopes to feel better… just so I could research better."
Harry stared at her thoughtfully. "Are you afraid of sleeping?"
She nodded her head and looked him in the eyes. "I am afraid I'll wake up and someone will tell me… that it's over… that he couldn't do it anymore."
"He's not doing that bad, Hermione. At least that's what I've been told."
Her eyes flashed in anger and pain. "That bad? Harry, he has not been improving at all! No treatment is working, no potion is working, nothing is working. His lungs are shrinking for Merlin's sake!" She was almost screaming at that point. "And it's been a month, a whole month in which he hasn't woken up… and that in Saint Mungos, the best good damn hospital for magical illnesses on this continent!"
He didn't flinch he didn't feel intimidated he only felt worse for her.
"I guess sometimes, unfortunately, it's the fear of losing someone what makes you realize how much you actually love that person." Harry said gently. He glanced over at her, he didn't want his best friend falling apart on him.
"And that fear sometimes prevents you from doing things you'd normally do, like visiting him instead of staying in your house reading."
"You say it as if it wasn't something useful." She complained tiredly.
"I've been researching for him since the problem was discovered… I believe that's more useful than staying by his side every day, staring at him… hoping that he will open his eyes again… like his mother does."
"I am sure you'll find something, Hermione, but not like this. You either drink a sleeping potion and sleep eight hours straight, or you go and visit him, but it has to be tonight. Whatever you choose will be better than staying in this place fearing what's to come next."
"I know." she said painfully.
"What will you do?"
"I don't know… I guess I want to see him… it's been more than a week since I last saw him… but it's so painful to see him laying there… and his mother is always by his side…"
"I can arrange for his mother to leave his side for this night, she needs to sleep on a bed just as much as you do."
"Narcissa never leaves him… only when the healers try new things on him, and only if she really has to."
"She'll leave if you promise to watch him tonight."
"How can you tell?"asked a skeptical Hermione.
"I was well informed by your family. Trust me on this."
Hermione stared thoughtfully at him for a moment, he showed her a weak reassuring smile; she was suspicious.
"My mother sent you here." she accused.
"I came on my own, but we did talk for a while before Blaise told me I could see you. She believes it will do you good to visit him."
"She's probably right…" She shrugged. "Perhaps if I do as she advices me just for this once… something good will come out of it." Hermione sighed again and added, "Not that I expect him to wake up anytime soon."
"Don't loose hope, Hermione."
"Hope is all I have left." She put her hands on the floor to support herself as she got up. It seemed to be a great effort for her, since Harry had to help her by holding her arm to prevent her from falling down.
Both of them left the nursery without saying a word, Hermione leaned on Harry as they walked through the halls of the Manor, making their way to the living room where Hermione's mother and Blaise were waiting.
"She's going." announced Harry.
The older woman smiled in relief and approached her daughter to give her a hug. It had been several days since Hermione had left the house; Hermione's behavior only worried her. The only places she usually went to was the library, a bathroom and her old nursery. Hermione had spent her time diligently working on her never-ending research; even when she was eating, something that didn't last long either, since she eat over her books in the library.
"I'm so glad, my dear." She even smiled gently at Harry. "Thank you so much."
"It's just for tonight." explained a very tired Hermione, "I'll be back in the morning."
"Whatever suits you better, honey." said Hyppolyta as she caressed her daughter's face. "I prepared you a bag with some fresh clothes just in case you want to stay the night."
"Thank you." She said shyly before leaving with Harry.
Blaise stared at Harry resentfully as he led Hermione to the fireplace; he had managed what he Blaise had not accomplished to do in days in just in less than half an hour.
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A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long to update! Don't hate me; you can check my profile whenever you need to know what's going on with me, I usually update it every now and then.
So I decided to make a Part IV, basically because I wanted to write in a third person perspective again, and hopefully this will be the last part of the story.
Thank you so much to everyone who reviews and still follows the fic!
