Hermione's heart was in her mouth as she slowly made her way down the ward where Draco was in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. She was getting hot under the collar and was fiddling with a loose thread on the sleeve of her jumper. Her face was warm and she now regretted not tying her hair up. It was thick and heavy on the back of her neck and made her feel ten times worse that she already did.
Ginny was sitting on a plastic chair at the far end of the corridor, ready for her when she came out of the private room in which Draco was being kept afterwards. She was deathly afraid of what would happen. She knew that he was unconscious and in a coma, but she was till hopeful that he somehow might have made a miraculous recovery overnight. Of course, deep down she knew that was not possible. She just wanted to see him, and that was all – him being in a coma didn't bother her. It did just a tiny bit, and she was worried for him, but at the end of the day she just wanted to be beside him for a little while. She needed to feel the comfort his presence gave her. Giving their grave situation she didn't want to face the world alone, friends or no friends.
She turned back to look over her shoulder, where she could see Ginny's flame-red hair at the end of the short corridor. She saw Hermione and gave a wide smile and thumbs-up. She returned with a weak grin but could not bring herself to return the gesture of luck. However, Ginny's encouragement had helped her. Without her, she didn't know whether she would have had the courage to come here at all. Ginny had been there when she needed her the most, and that was what was important to her. She needed her friends at a time like this, even though she wasn't entirely sure if she had believed Ron when he had said that he was OK with her and Draco being together. Not that it mattered, anyway. She knew they would still be there for her.
She took a deep breath and pushed open the door into the room that said Private in gold lettering. She knew from the MediWitch she had spoken to that Draco was in a critical but stable condition. She didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was being closely monitored because there was a chance of brain damage, the witch had said. Recalling her very words sent a shiver down Hermione's spine. Brain damage? What did that mean, a haemorrhage? Something worse?
As soon as she saw him she gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. Tears burned at her brown eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she was unable to breathe. She carefully made her way over to his bedside.
He was unconscious, she knew that much. It was easy to see that. He was lying very, very still, barely breathing, his eyes closed. He could have been sleeping for all anyone else knew. His skin was paler than ever and the slow beep of a heart monitor told Hermione that he was still alive, but only just. She didn't know to react to this, and so just sat down next to him on a chair. Her hands were folded in her lap, and she was twiddling her thumbs nervously. Her breath was forced and ragged, and her heart hammered under her woollen jumper. She was getting hotter and hotter under the bright hospital lights, and her jumper was sticking to her back. She pushed a curl of chestnut brown hair behind one dainty ear. Then she forced herself to look at him.
A single tear slid down her rosy red cheek, then another and another. Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. Just the whole haunting image upset and shook her to the core. He didn't deserve to be like this. He hadn't done anything wrong, nothing at all. At that very moment, she hated Pansy Parkinson for doing this to Draco more than she had ever hated anyone before. It was she who had kicked him in the back of head. It was she who had got him hospitalized. And it was her fault that he was in a coma, unable to move or talk to anyone. She doubted he even knew she was there, next to him, crying.
She leaned forward and carefully took his pale hand in her own. It was as cold as ice, and she held it as tightly as she dared without (she thought) doing him any harm that she knew of. She gently stroked the back of his hand with her fingertips. His skin was smooth to the touch, but still very cold and this frightened her. It was almost as if he was already dead. Hermione immediately shook this thought out of her head. No, he wasn't going to die. He was going to get better and come back to Hogwarts, she told herself over and over again. He's going to get better. He is. He's going to recover and come back to you and Anielle. Don't forget that. A few more salty tears slipped down her already wet cheeks. She sniffed quietly and wiped her nose with a tissue she pulled out of her jeans pocket.
"Oh, God" she whispered, her voice wobbly and tearful. "Oh, God, why did this have to happen to you?" she knew that she wouldn't get an answer. But it felt better to say something that it was to just sit there doing nothing. It gave her a comfort, and she knew that it would give him comfort too.
"I won't let you die, Draco. You can't die. I need you. We both need you, me and Anielle. I love you. Don't leave me" she sobbed those last three words, unable now to control her grief. She truly loved him. She couldn't possibly let him go, after everything. Her eyes came to rest on his forehead, where the bruise from Pansy's first assault was still painfully lurid. She could see the angry mottled purple skin through the white blonde of his fringe. She could also see the wadding at the back of his head that had been used to stench the flow of blood.
"Don't leave me, Draco. I'll do anything to get you better again, I promise you that. And I'll make sure Parkinson pays for what she's done. I'll see to it myself. I can't let you go, not now. I love you" she whispered, her breath now catching in sobs in her throat. She felt her heart thump wildly in her ribcage. "Please don't go".
Hermione lost complete control. She cried harder and harder, her hand over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face and she bit her lip so hard that it bled. She had meant every single word that she had just said. She did not want him to leave her, to die. She knew that she wouldn't be able to take the pain if he did. Hermione knew that she had to do something to help him get better, whatever it took. She just wanted to feel his arms around her again, to hear his laugh and see him smile when she told him she loved him. She longed for those days that they had spent together up in the Head's Common Room when Ron and Harry were outside and Anielle was asleep, and they would kiss and hold each other. And Pansy Parkinson would pay a heavy price for what she had done, whether he died or not. Hermione would personally see to it that she be severely punished.
After a few minutes, Hermione raised her head. She saw Draco's chest rising and falling gently with each breath that he took. She could not help fearing that each breath might be his last, and it hurt her physically to see him in such a condition. She wanted to stay with him all morning, all afternoon, all night. But she knew that wasn't possible. Professor McGonagall had granted her two hours at the most to visit him, because she had lessons that day and they were important as well even if she did not think so, giving the situation. Hermione knew from memory that Charms was her first lesson, followed by double Potions and Arithmancy, as well as an Astronomy class up in the Astronomy Tower that evening. She had no intention of going to any of her classes, but she knew she had to. She would have preferred to stay with him and hold his hand. But of course, that wasn't possible either.
She slowly sat up and pushed back her chair very carefully as to not make a sound. Then she got up, trailing her fingers out of his. Her heart was in her mouth once more, and beating more slowly than before. So slowly in fact that it could have stopped working. Hermione bit her lip, hard, so that a bead of blood formed on the rosy pink skin. It hurt but she didn't care.
She didn't want to leave him on his own, not in his condition. Her heartstrings plucked painfully as she took her hand out of his. Once again, tears welled up behind her eyes, and once again, spilled out of them and down her wet cheeks and neck.
"I love you" she whispered finally, before turning to leave the room. It hurt with every step she took, and with every step she thought about turning back and staying for a few more moments, a few more minutes perhaps. Just as she went out into the corridor and shut the door behind her, she turned back over her shoulder. He looked so calm just lying there, oblivious to the world. Peaceful, almost, undisturbed. Like a sleeping angel. He was her Sleeping Angel.
Hermione left down the corridor, her head down and tears sliding down her face. Her brown curls bounced on her shoulders as she walked, her feet like lead and her footsteps heavy. When she reached where Ginny was sitting, she burst into tears and broke down. Ginny jumped up from her seat and threw her arms around her friend.
"It's OK. It's OK, Hermione" she said softly, patting her hair. Hermione cried harder.
"I shouldn't have left. He needs me, Ginny" she sobbed. Ginny put an arm round Hermione's shoulder, guiding her down another corridor and down a flight of steps to the Muggle lifts.
"I know it's really horrible for you, Hermione. I understand. I'm here to help you with whatever you need, OK?" Ginny said. Hermione nodded, still crying. Her shoulders were heaving with each sob that escaped her mouth.
As the lift clattered down into the hospital lobby, Hermione realised that her heart was breaking.