Ginny looked sadly up at Harry, her heart aching for the mess that her boyfriend had become after their rescue mission in Ireland. It was obvious that he had gone through pains to try to appear somewhat normal, and had maybe even run a comb through his always-mussed hair; however, it really wasn't working. His green eyes were sad and distant, and the skin underneath them seemed permanently stained grey. Normally unruly in a fluffy, springy way, Harry's hair now hung uncooperatively limp on either side of his face. His shoulders were slumped, and his arms lay motionless by his side as he walked. Ginny respected Harry's need for silence, but that didn't mean that she didn't feel the oppressive crush of melancholy that had descended on the entire castle.
It didn't seem as though Harry was really focused on where he was walking – it was as if he was on autopilot, set to walk to and from class or to and from the hospital wing. Ginny had been to see Hermione frequently, but she found the sight of her pale, unmoving friend chillingly disturbing. Harry, on the other hand, had been almost every day without fail. No matter how busy he was with school work or midterm preparations, he always spent at least ten minutes a day in the hospital wing with his friend. Today, though, Ginny was going with him. In her mind she was acting as his emotional crutch, something for Harry to lean on when things got too hard.
Finally, the silent pair arrived at the large wooden doors to the hospital wing. "Concelior," Harry murmured, casting a concealment-charm on both him and his girlfriend. It still unnerved Ginny that no one outside of the rescue team could know that Hermione was in the hospital wing – in theory it was a danger to the young witch if anyone knew her vulnerable state, but Ginny genuinely didn't understand. If Lucius is dead, who could pose a threat?
The hospital wing seemed far more gloomy now that winter had really set in and snow seemed to be falling constantly. As hard as the sun tried, it couldn't shine through the thick cloud-layer and grace the students with its yellow light. Madame Pomfrey had attempted to liven up the sick ward by hanging garland and other holiday decorations, but the thoughtful gesture had been mostly ineffective; the world still seemed like a washed-out Polaroid, two-dimensional and blurry.
It was only then that Ginny noticed Harry hadn't followed her into the hospital wing. She could see him standing stock still in the hallway, his eyes wide, his breathing rapid and erratic. Quickly walking back to his side, Ginny rested her hand over his heart. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly, placing her other hand on his cheek, gently pleading with him to look at her. "Harry, what's wrong?"
Ginny felt a warm tear run by her hand, and when Harry looked down his green eyes were misty. "She's been like this for two months Ginny," he croaked, barely able to form the words. "There's been no change in her condition, and" – his voice faltered – "and I don't know if there will be. I don't know…I don't know how long we can pretend, Gin."
Harry rested his head on Ginny's shoulder, sobs wracking his too-thin frame. Carding her fingers through his hair, Ginny composed herself while he couldn't see her. It surprised her that this break-down had been so long in coming; every day when he returned from seeing Hermione, his eyes were troubled and he couldn't concentrate. "It's all going to be ok Harry," she whispered, lightly kissing his temple. "We can't give up now, not after so long -"
"But how much longer do we have to do this?" he asked, raising his head. "Every day, seeing her kills me a little bit more, and every single day I wish that she hadn't jumped in front of me, that it was me lying where she was, that she could be awake, with Draco, that…."
Harry trailed off, running out of words. "I understand," Ginny said softly, holding Harry's hands between hers. "We'll talk to Madame Pomfrey after the holidays, alright? Right now…well, right now everyone needs a little hope, right?"
Her boyfriend nodded stiffly, and she brushed away the last of his tears from under his eyes. As she watched, Harry placed his 'Everything's Fine' mask over his features, rounding out his sharp expression and plastering a semblance of a smile on his face. Ginny shuddered – every time Harry did that, it made her feel sick on his behalf. "Shall we?" he asked her, extending his arm.
Ginny nodded, wrapping her arm around his and leaning her head on his shoulder. At a point beyond words, she placed a soft kiss on his neck. The two walked unnoticed through the primary ward, slipping past Madame Pomfrey's office door and opening the Hippopotamus portrait.
It was no surprise to the couple that Draco was already there, sitting in his customary chair right beside Hermione. For the first few days after their return Draco had spent his days lying in bed beside her, disregarding all visitors and disruptions. Something had happened, however, that inspired him to get out of bed and resume his classes. Everyone – Ginny included – thought that Draco would be an emotional wreck, and was entirely prepared to offer the Slytherin the comfort that he would need. Draco had challenged all their assumptions by showing up for Transfiguration clean, composed, and seemingly more emotionally stable than his year-mates. A baffled Professor McGonagall approved Draco's perfect answers in class, and the stunned students attempted to mimic the Malfoy's calm demeanor.
As soon as class ended, Harry had planned to approach Malfoy and welcome him back to class. However, the bell had rung for lunch break and Draco had shot out of the class like a rocket. Concerned, Harry had run after the blonde; later he told Ginny that Draco had made a beeline from Transfiguration to the hospital wing and had sat by Hermione's side all lunch hour. He had barely touched the food that house elves had supplied.
This pattern had continued, with Draco spending every spare moment out of class by Hermione side. He'd be reading his textbooks next to her, doing his homework, eating by her side, making notes about the latest teacher's assistant potions plan, or – more often than not – just sitting by her side in silence, holding her hand. If anyone came in and tried to talk to Draco the blonde would smile and reply, but only monosyllabically. He made it clear through his words and actions that he wanted to spend time alone with Hermione.
A few nights ago Harry had voiced a theory about Draco to Ginny; as Hermione's wounds hadn't yet healed and were still not responding to magical influences, the witch was essentially living off of blood replenishing potions. Harry had initially been concerned that the hospital wing would run out of the supplement, but had discovered that Madame Pomfrey was receiving regular deliveries of the potion. When Harry asked her about her source, she had claimed that she was ordering them by owl - everyone knew that this could not be true, as the mediwitch would never stoop so low as to use mail order potions. Slughorn, Harry speculated, still didn't know about Hermione and therefore wouldn't know to brew the potion, and as accomplished of a mediwitch she was, Madame Pomfrey was no Potions Master….so, Harry reasoned that Draco must be brewing the blood-replenisher. When Ginny remarked that no still-functioning human being could brew that much potion, study for exams, and stay awake in classes, Harry had shrugged and stated, "Well then who else could it be?" This had stumped Ginny, and she still hadn't come up with a satisfactory answer.
She suggested that Harry just ask Draco about it, however her boyfriend immediately vetoed that idea. Apparently, Harry and Draco had reached an accord of sorts; whenever Harry would come and visit Hermione, neither one would speak. Harry would go sit on Hermione's left side, opposite of Draco, and neither boy would break the silence. Eventually Harry would leave and Draco would continue his vigil, the world as it should be.
This visit started out no different. Ginny and Harry sat on Hermione's left, Draco staying on her right, no one talking at first. After a few minutes of this silent guardianship, however, Ginny began to get fidgety, playing with her hair and her sweater sleeve, her eyes flickering all over the room to avoid looking at Hermione's all-too-pale figure. Living in a house with eight other – usually very loud – people had left Ginny somewhat unaccustomed to and unnerved by silence. Her eyes resting on Harry's bedraggled form and Draco's mask of composure, something inside of her clicked into place.
"Hello Hermione," she said, her voice shattering the silence like a pick through ice. Both Draco and Harry's heads snapped towards her, their eyes finally leaving the sickbed. Ignoring the boys' startled reactions, Ginny continued; "It's really lovely outside right now – there's so much snow! Christmas is right around the corner, so Hagrid brought in the trees, and Flitwick and McGonagall decorated everything so beautifully. All the eighth-years helped, of course, except for Seamus because his wingardium leviosa tends to end in a rather fiery display." Continuing her meaningless tirade, Ginny looked at the boys. Harry, never one for concealing his emotions, was showing his confusion, anger, and indecision by furrowing his brow and opening and closing his mouth. Draco, on the other hand, had merely raised one of his eyebrows. Am I hallucinating, or is that….is he smirking?
"Oh, and you'll never guess what I got Ron for Christmas!" Ginny continued, still uninterrupted. "I was absolutely desperate for something to give him, and I found the most brilliant collector Chudley Cannons quill in this ratty little shop off of Diagon – before you get to Knockturn, mind you, but definitely not on Diagon – and it flashes the Cannon colours and makes these wonderful explosion noises when you dot your I's…."
Just as Ginny was about to descend once more into silence, Draco jumped up from his seat. "Keep talking!" he shouted, his eyes wide. "Ginny, keep talking to Hermione!"
"Umm…what about?" Ginny was genuinely confused.
"Anything!" he shouted, running a hand through his hair. "Christmas, happy things. Talk!"
"Erm…well, as I said earlier, everything's all dressed up for Christmas. We all decorated the dorm, hanging different wreaths on everyone's doors. Yes, I know, technically I'm not supposed to be in the dorm, but the teachers made an exception, this once. Luna picked a bright pink wreath for your door, complete with some fantastical imaginary infestation I'm sure….I think it was hurfflepfeffers?" Ginny looked desperately at Harry, neither of them really knowing what to do about Draco's sudden tense behavior.
When Ginny fell silent, Harry attempted to jump in before Draco could bite her head off. "And, uh, don't forget about the mistletoe this year – Dean enchanted it so that it follows its victims around until they -"
A loud shout silenced Harry, and he and Ginny were stunned beyond words as Draco seemed to collapse into his chair, still holding Hermione's hand. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you," he was murmuring, holding Hermione's hand and running a finger down her pale cheek. A tear from the blonde's eye fell onto Hermione's never-healing wounds, mixing with the blood, making Ginny feel sick.
"Draco?" Harry said quietly. "Uh, Draco, what is it?" The Slytherin didn't seem to have heard Harry, so he tried again. "Draco?" Nothing. "Malfoy?" Still nothing. "OI! DRACO! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL JUST HAPPENED?!"
Ginny jumped as her boyfriend's shout echoed around the room. It appeared to have served its purpose, however, as Draco finally turned to face the couple, brushing tears from his face. To their astonishment, he was smiling. "She moved," he whispered. "Hermione moved."
Without saying another word, Draco grabbed Ginny's hand and pulled her around the sickbed onto his side. Giving the younger girl an encouraging smile, the Slytherin wrapped her calloused hand around Hermione's pale, fragile one. "Talk," he whispered. "Please."
Ginny swallowed nervously, Harry's encouraging expression motivating her to go on. "Um, hi Hermione," she started, hesitant. "Um, I just thought you should know that, uh, Mum knitted you one of her Christmas sweaters anyways. I told her -" Ginny paused to recollect her emotions. She took a deep breath. "-I told her that you probably wouldn't be able to wear it, but she said that it didn't matter. She still knits sweaters for Fred, did you know? In her mind, there's nowhere that a sweater can't go, and no one that can't wear a sweater. And even though you and Ron broke up you're still family in her eyes, really, I mean, we all love you so mu– oh Merlin…"
Words freezing in her throat, Ginny's heart soared as she felt Hermione's hand twitch under hers. The red haired girl looked up at her boyfriend, happy tears filling her eyes. "She moved," she whispered, the two words filled with emotion.
A weight settled over Ginny's hand, and she realized that Draco had rested his hand overtop of hers and Hermione's. "She's still in there," the blonde said softly, a smile still hovering on his lips. "Hermione's still here."
A third hand rested atop Hermione's pale, near-bloodless hand, and Ginny noticed that Harry was now sitting beside them. He turned to Ginny and smiled, the worry lines seeming to melt from his face, his green eyes regaining some of their lost sparkle. "Everyone needs a little hope, right?" he said, resting his other hand on Ginny's cheek. She nodded, and for the first time in months it felt as though the world could potentially be a happy place again.
HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM
It was a while before Ginny and Harry left, but Draco didn't mind. They all spent time talking to Hermione, noting when she moved and also noting when she didn't, choosing to pay far more attention to the positive responses from the comatose witch.
As soon as the – not happy, per se, just happier – couple left, Draco resumed his favoured position lying in the bed at Hermione's side. He had set up multiple wards at the entrance to Hermione's sick room so that he could tell when a guest was coming, and that way could slip off the bed and into the nearby chair before anyone was the wiser. Whatever anyone might say, Draco was a very private young man.
Resting his nose lightly on her cheek, Draco breathed in Hermione's vanilla-parchment scent, ignoring the copper undertones from the never-healing wounds. His next batch of blood replenisher was almost ready, so he knew that he'd have to leave her side shortly. But not right now, he thought stubbornly. We have right now….
"Hello Hermione," he whispered, his lips moving against a small patch of unharmed skin. "It's me, Draco. While we're in the mood for talking – well, you're not really in the mood, but you know what I mean – I just…I just thought that I'd say that….I think I love you, Hermione."
Draco took a deep breath.
"I didn't realize it for a while, honestly. I mean, I cared about you, deeply, don't get me wrong, but 'love' isn't a word that you just throw around, you know? But I….I don't feel like I'm throwing it around with you. I think that I really love you Hermione.
"It's the little things that made me realize it. Like, how I can't imagine walking outside in the snow without you, your hair shoved under some hat that you knitted, your Harrods' scarf wrapped around your neck, nose red, cheeks red, gloved hand in mine….or how there's this giant hole beside me everywhere I go; when I'm sitting in the library, in bed, in class, teaching – you're missing, and I can feel it through my whole soul."
Draco closed his eyes. "I just…I never knew how I'd know who my soul mate was, but…now I do. My soul mate is the most stubborn, beautiful, strong, intelligent, wonderful witch that's ever walked the earth, and I can't go on without her.
"Hermione Granger, you have to wake up. Without you, my life is…it's empty, really. I can't picture my future without you in it, and we could do so much together, I…..Hermione, remember that day back in the library? You promised that you wouldn't leave me, and I am holding you to your promise. Please, please come back to me, Hermione. I love you."
Underneath Draco's still hand, Hermione's fingers twitched.
A/N: Happy holidays everyone! Please R&R, it feeds the muse!