Boys Don't Cry
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. Only the plot.
ooooooooooooooooooo
Well... From the reviews, it seems that I have upset quite a lot of you. I apologize. One of you said that, if I had planned for Hermione to die, then why lag it on or drag it on for as far as I did? Now I see that you have lost faith in me and my writing.
First of all, I promised a happy ending, and yes, you will receive just that. I don't think that a happy ending requires a dead Hermione, do you? I am sorry if you think I have led you on or have lied to you, but I must tell you that I never intended to let you down in any way. I really am sorry. But there is quite more to this story, and I must ask you to stick around. Because the sun also rises and shines, you know. It's not just gloom and doom in here, though it seems like it.
Some of you told me that you were confused, from the ending of the last chapter. Believe what you want; but this chapter will reveal Hermione's fate. I am sorry that in the beginning, I ramble on for so long and you think its nonsense. But I assure you that it does go somewhere.
More importantly, the dreams that Harry has been having; swimming in darkness, and all that, is just, well, it's from the Cure's 'Just Like Heaven'. If you look in the song excerpt below, it says: Alone above a raging sea... That stole the only girl I love...and drowned her deep inside of me.... Well, that's why he's been having those dreams. Swimming in darkness, and all that stuff. I can't really explain it, but it just really made sense to me, to put in those dreams, after reading those beautiful lyrics (written by the brilliant Robert Smith). Well, I hope you bestow at least more faith in me and believe that I will provide a happy and fluffy ending for our favorite pair, because that's my only plan for this story. And no, this is not yet the end. Some people are asking me if it's the end... and I ask myself if I haven't made it clear enough. I assure you that when it is finally the end, you'll know. A few more chapters.
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".... Daylight licked me into shape
I must have been asleep for days
And moving lips to breathe her name
I opened up my eyes
And found myself alone
Alone
Alone above a raging sea
That stole the only girl I loved
And drowned her deep inside of me...."
--The Cure, Just Like Heaven
ooooooooooooo
Promise
There was a distinct and far sound, muffled and subdued. His body was tired and weak; he felt almost paralyzed. His energy was drained, and his thoughts carried no spark or fleck of protest or spirit. His soul seemed to be battered and torn to pieces.
He was swimming in a sweet, intoxicating and addicting darkness.
It was fluid and swayed gently but ever so powerfully that it carried his tall body with the current. It filled his mouth with a warm and inviting saccharine taste, and then slid down his throat to warm his aching lungs. It was silent, but it was a sort of silence that was expected and accepted dutifully without a care or objection.
He hadn't known this before. It was calm, and he was at peace.
But this wasn't the sort of peace he thought someday he might achieve. It was one that kept him trapped inside, one that kept him swimming in the darkness, never reaching the surface or nearing it. It was one that embraced him, not lovingly, but with sinister and mysterious intentions that he was too afraid to uncover.
He felt light, but he still felt that heavy burden that he had known for far too long. His heart was still functioning, beating, sending blood to course through his veins... but somehow, it made no difference.
His heart was beating, but he didn't know if he was alive.
There was a stinging pain deep inside him that made him want to think that he wasn't. It was the only sort of pain, the only sort of wound that the darkness could not soothe or swallow.
And it became stronger.
It throbbed with raw purpose, spreading and aiming farther, stabbing deeper. It was cold but it burned without mercy, as he felt himself double over in pain. He could feel his hand clutch his chest, eyes closed tightly, biting his tongue from crying out.
Just then, the peace and solitude he knew, vanished.
The current became stronger, fierce with jaws and hands that grabbed to crush him whole. The silence was replaced with a loud roaring and bellowing that made his ears ache. The darkness became darker, and the once sweet taste turned acidic and bile.
It filled his mouth and slid down his throat, leaving a smoldering trail. It filled and made his lungs crumble in pieces, making it impossible for him to breathe.
He unclenched his jaw and yelled out, but there was nothing. His shout was non-existent.
He felt his heart beating, faster and faster. Soon it was at such a rapid pace that it hurt. He could hear its booming beats, as if it were to detonate any second from inside him. His pulse was racing and his blood was so icy it seemed to pierce through the walls of his blood vessels.
Inside his eyelids, he saw swirls of color and slivers of trinket silver. He felt something rip and claw at his skin, tearing the flesh off of his bones.
He tried to call out again, but there was nothing.
Just then, he felt his heartbeats slow into a stifled pounding. He could feel everything fading away, the sensation of his surroundings growing fainter wrapping around him. The current had lost its sway and the acid, tart taste in his mouth and throat disappeared.
The harsh roaring was now a weak solace, but it seemed different than before.
He noticed the quick transition. It was like the winter thaw before spring. It made the atmosphere different, but it didn't take anything away at all.
He didn't feel the same cold bitterness, but instead a warm and welcoming one. He noticed how the sway had stopped for a moment, and was now rocking him gently.
But he still saw the same darkness.
Just then, he saw something start to appear or emerge from the darkness. It was a face, a beautiful and delicate face. One that was fit for hearty and melting brown eyes and a genuine and wide smile.
Little by little, the face became clearer. The features started to appear.
His heartbeats ceased as he saw who it was before him.
It was her.
She was smiling down on him, her deep brown eyes sparkling and glossy with tears. And he saw himself, asleep on a bed. His vision trailed down, and he found that she was holding his hand. The scene seemed to be playing before his eyes, though he was not sure if it was real or whether it was something his longing thoughts and imagination had created.
But he had felt it. That warmth, that sweet and gentle warmth that he could never miss or overlook. He had felt it trace against his palm and entwine with his fingers.
And it had felt real. He had felt her soft hands against his.
It had to be real.
But as he watched the scene with a vague familiarity, confusion mounded inside his mind and fought against his heart's protests.
He was watching her hold his hand, though he was asleep on the bed. How could he be here, seeing all of this?
He shook his head solemnly.
It couldn't be real. Though he didn't want to believe it, he knew he couldn't fool himself again.
It was just a dream.
Suddenly, he heard a whisper. His attention sharpened on the sight before him.
"Hermione?"
Something clicked inside of his mind, but it was formless and fuzzy. He could not place the strange familiarity of the scene and whispered words.
"I'm here, Harry. I'm right here."
Her voice was kind and gentle, and he felt his heart break from hearing her say those words.
It was a lie. She wasn't there. She was no longer by his side.
Dreams were ruthless and all they did was lie and give false hope.
It was not fair that he was still haunted by her and the accompanying pain in his dreams.
She was gone.
He didn't know how to face the rest of the world, or the rest of his life without her, but he knew he had to. He had to keep going.
But he didn't want to. He wanted to stay in this dreams forever, and just watch her. To just see her face, to just see her smile again. He didn't care if he ever woke up. Just as long as he didn't have to face the cold and harsh reality where she no longer held a place.
And it hurt, it did.
But she still held a place in his heart.
He could not make it vanish or disappear; if he had such a power he would use it to erase the pain and move on. He could not even try to soothe or help it heal.
He knew he would live on and it would still be the same; there would be no difference at all. She was still going to be there. In his heart, reminding him of the times when he was truly happy and content.
And maybe it would keep him bitter and cold. Maybe he would lock himself out of contact from the world that had stolen the only girl he loved away from him. But he knew better, though at times he insisted that he didn't. Sometimes he didn't want reasons, and sometimes he might just wanted to mourn over his loss and broken heart.
But he would still see her face. Her warm and laughing brown eyes that he would get lost in at times. Her smile and her soft laughter that he adored.
A memory. A place in his heart and a mere memory.
Is that really all he could offer?
But before he could try to search for such an answer, an overwhelming and deep feeling filled him. It was light but powerful, and it made his blood rush faster and his heart beat with fervor.
Suddenly, he felt as if he was plunged deeper inside the darkness. It was sort of like... falling. But there was no panic or frantic thoughts scattering in his mind. It was soothing and it felt better than anything else.
And so he gave in without resistance.
He fell.
oooooo
Harry opened his eyes, his eyelids still heavy. He could feel the dryness surrounding his eyes and he knew it was what was left from his tears from the night before.
He sighed, as he stared up at the blurry white, nude, ceiling above him.
It was still dark, just hours before the sun would rise. The curtains had been pulled over the windows, but he knew just what was waiting outside the Hogwarts grounds. He recognized the chill in the Hospital Wing enough to know that there was a light snowfall happening right at the moment.
He swallowed hard, trying to consume that dry and rough feeling in his throat.
He lay motionless, his gaze unwavering from the ceiling. His breaths were shallow and paced, his arms were completely still beside him. It was as if he was afraid to move. As if something was to pounce on him if he were to move an inch.
In his mind, there was a disturbing silence. But he saw things; he saw his memories playing before his eyes. It was heart breaking and painful, for they only reminded him of what he had and what he had lost, but he could never stop them if he tried.
He closed his eyes slowly.
His body was weak, tired. He felt as if his limbs were far too heavy to lift or move. His heartbeats were only occasional, a faint thud now and then. In his head there was a gentle lullaby playing that seemed to be fading with every tick the clock sounded.
He refused to think about what had happened, but he had no choice.
He knew that Dumbledore had enacted some sort of spell on him. And he wasn't bitter or angry about it at all. The spell had relieved him and made all the agony and pain vanish. Seeing her there, lifeless on one of the pure white Hospital Wing's beds, was something that made him lose his control and made him hurt more than he could have ever imagined.
She was gone.
And though he didn't want to believe it, a small part of him did just that.
He felt weak, small and defeated.
He had lost.
He didn't want to think about his life. He didn't want to think what was to happen after he left this room, or after he left Hogwarts. It was too much to bear. He didn't want to think about how he would be without her, or how the silence and emptiness of a small room could break him down and make him fall to his knees. He did not want to think about how he would think about her everyday, or the fact that his heart would never be mended.
He didn't want to think about the pain reminiscing would bring to him when he thought of her. He wanted to lock away all of his memories, clear his mind.
He knew he would never be able to move on if the thought of her still opened up new wounds, and stabbed into the old ones. He knew it would keep and hold him back. It would keep him underneath the same storm clouds; keep him living in the same painful past.
He didn't want to let go.
He hadn't wanted to lose hope.
But he knew that there were times where life didn't give choices. It shoved one choice in your way, and that was all you could make do with. He knew that life wasn't fair and that people lost people who were too pure and innocent. He knew that sometimes death took the ones who didn't deserve to go.
He knew all this.
He could accept it.
But it stuck white-hot daggers through his heart and pierced through his weary body, and he found himself turning away from it, stubbornly.
He wondered when the world had become such a place like this. Where no one was ever safe when they thought they finally were, and where wickedness could overcome a heart in good. He wondered why revenge became so important and he wondered how revenge could blind a person and everything and anything else didn't matter anymore. He wondered when the world became cruel and heartless, where people lost their love to the shadows of death and evil. He wondered why the world no longer held a shining torch for hope.
And maybe he had seen and known this all before. Maybe he had accepted it and maybe he had never questioned it. But somehow, thinking about it now, staring up at the colorless ceiling, he had a different view. He used to think he was just an onlooker, a bystander who saw all these things and tried to put a stop to them. But he had lost a person close to his heart, and he didn't know if he was just a spectator anymore. A passerby who had seen such things could have never felt such pain, such heartbreak, such loss. It was different. Everything was different.
And Harry didn't know if he could speak about such things to anyone, or voice them into the silent air surrounding him. Maybe over time, maybe if he lost himself enough to push the pain away. Maybe if he found another love. But he found it unspeakable, for the time being. He was voiceless on the matter. Whether he chose to be, or he just was, he didn't know. All he knew was that the pain was just too sacred and deeper than he or any person could ever imagine. He was just afraid that if he were ever to speak about such a thing, he would lose or run out of words. It was indescribable. There just weren't enough words.
Harry opened his eyes, and was met with the same sight. It was still silent in the infirmary, besides his rhythmic shallow breaths. Gloom and a faint sadness drifted about in the air, though he was positive one who didn't know what recent events that had happened here could never tell the difference. The walls had ears, the ceiling had eyes, the room alone had so many secrets to tell to those who would listen.
Harry sighed inaudibly, the blank sight he was gazing upon becoming blurry. His eyes stung with familiar warmth. He could feel his lungs start to ache, his heart start to thrash and call out.
Things just weren't the same. They were so different. Things were so sad, so serious, so silent. This wasn't where he wanted to be. The silence allowed memories and reminiscing. The silence allowed him to dwell upon what had happened. The silence allowed him pain, and nothing else.
He wanted an escape.
Harry closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to convince himself this was some dream, or nightmare that he would wake up from soon enough. But as he opened his eyes, he was met with the same sight. He felt the warmth escape from his eyes and slide down his face, colliding with the coldness of his skin. He couldn't help but give out a ragged and deep sigh, as he closed his eyes again.
He felt it building up inside him, inside his chest, inside his lungs, inside his heart. That same burning, creeping up inside his flesh and tearing at his organs. His lungs became hot and compacted, and he couldn't breathe in any more than he could breathe out. It was a painful, internal suffocation. Somehow he knew this feeling once before, but it was much more stronger now.
Harry wiped his eyes and willed himself up. He pressed his hands against the mattress and sheets of the bed, as he sat up on the bed. He found his vision weary and unclear, even with the tears, as he reached over for his glasses. He put it on slowly, but without hesitation, as he sighed again and looked around.
There were faint shadows shading the walls and parts of the floors, like marked territories. He looked beside him, and he found the beds neat and tidy, the blankets clean and unwrinkled. The pillows were fluffed and kept. But as he turned his head in the opposite direction, he found himself looking at a sleeping boy. Harry slightly smiled, as he saw familiar ginger hair peeking out from the pale sheets. And then he turned his gaze right across from his bed, to the row of beds in front of him. His smile vanished and his gaze dimmed, as he saw that they hadn't sent her body elsewhere overnight.
With a heavy heart, he got up from his bed and walked over to her bed quietly.
He pulled up a chair beside her bed, and leaned forward, his elbows propped on the bed, as he reached for her hand. He enclosed his hands around it, slowly, before he entwined his fingers with hers. He watched his actions, trying to memorize the feel of her smooth, creamy skin with his. Something inside told him that there was something different, but he ignored it and shoved it in the dark corners of his mind.
His eyes trailed up her arm, still in her crimson dress robes, as they finally landed on her face. He felt his eyes sting again, as his heart became heavier and heavier.
She had the face of an angel. Calm, peaceful, kind, and beautiful in a way that he could never describe in words.
His memories returned, this time vivid and detailed, as if he was reliving it all over again. He saw her again, at the ball, the way he had gotten lost in her eyes and the way the world and their other peers had vanished in a matter of seconds. He remembered the warmth that had trickled up his body, holding her in his arms again. She had looked so beautiful that he had known he had to try again, just try to make her understand that he couldn't be without her.
He saw her, her face streaked with tears and her eyes hurt, and pleading for his reasonableness to return. He remembered the way she had cried onto his chest, the way her tears had soaked through his robes and shirt, sticking to his skin. He remembered the way she clung onto him so tightly and firmly, never wanting to let him leave. And he remembered not wanting to leave. He remembered wanting to confess to her, pour out what was burdening his heart, what had kept it too heavy all through these years. He wanted to let her know that he would do whatever it took to come back for her, he would do whatever it took to come back and be with her.
He loved her.
But he loved her too much to tell her.
He remembered the way he held her, and his heart ached; all he wanted was to hold her again. All he wanted was to see her smile; all he wanted was to hear her voice. All he wanted, in this world, was to be able to live with the only girl he had loved all these years. All he wanted, was to be happy.
He heard it in his ears, once again. The way her voice was so soft and gentle, so fragile and delicate. He remembered how it shook from her tears, but how it was so honest and strong. He remembered when she had told him that she loved him.
Harry bowed his head forward, holding her hand tightly between his. The tears were leaking out, slipping out from his eyes with so much ease. His heart was so heavy, still so burdened. He could feel the bittersweet drops slide down his face. He could taste it in his mouth. Salty, translucent as it seemed. It tasted of sadness and pain, sorrow and loss. Heartbreak. Lost love. Broken love.
He had tried to be strong. He had tried to overcome every obstacle: leaving her, fighting Voldemort, returning. He had tried to overcome every single problem without letting his heart fall in pieces and ruin to the pit of his stomach. He had tried to be strong.
For her. It was all for her.
He had to be strong for her.
He had always tried to keep the tears back, to keep it from slipping out though at times it hurt too much to bear. He had done just that. At times when he was weak and he needed reassurance but there was none to be found, he had kept it inside. When he had to leave his heart behind with his cloud of doubt growing stronger with each second, he had kept it in.
But this... this, was just something that had taken him and broken him whole.
It broke his spirit, his faith, his hope, his heart. His thoughts were useless and now they were aged and weary. His hope had been blown out like a single, flickering and weak candle in a dark room. His faith had been carried away into the tide of the lost. His heart... his heart.
His heart was where she was. His heart was with her.
His heart, no matter what she thought, was and always had been in her hands. He had given it to her completely so long ago, that he had almost forgotten. Over time, he came to rely on her, like the oxygen he needed to inhale every moment. She was vital, she was important.
He never found it unusual, or awkward.
He remembered there were times when they would just sit alone, staring up at the sky in the Astronomy Tower. He remembered the sky would paint itself blushing and soft pinks, striking oranges and brilliant yellows. And he remembered looking at her, watching the way her eyes lit up and sparkled, and the way her mouth would be pulled into the most breath taking and beautiful smile he had ever seen.
He came to thinking this was all he needed. It was what he lived for.
Her smile.
It was enough. It was just enough, no questions at all.
He remembered thinking about it, those late nights when he could not sleep. He didn't remember realizing when he had fallen in love with her, or when he had started to love her, but it seemed as if he had always loved her.
And each day, every moment, every breath he would let out and back in his body, it would get stronger.
He knew nothing else. He didn't know, he couldn't imagine not loving her the way he did. It was just there, scarred into his soul and imprinted onto his heart. He knew nothing different.
He remembered thinking that he could never leave her, but he did. He remembered vowing never to let her in harm's way, but... she was. She was. Because of him. Just because of him.
He felt the pain increase inside of him, and soon the silent air about in the Hospital Wing was disturbed. It seemed as if the walls were listening attentively, the ceiling looking down on him sympathetically. But the silence was broken by the sounds of the sobs of a boy, who had done his best never to cry, but had lost. The pain was too great, the loss too immense.
Boys don't cry, he told himself. He had told himself so many times before.
But it didn't matter now. It didn't matter at all. He didn't care anymore. All he wanted was for the pain to end; all he wanted was something to calm him. He wanted her back. He just didn't understand.
What had he done? What had he done to lose her? Why did he have to lose her?
The questions echoed inside his mind, as his body shook and heaved from his sobs. The tears continued to fall easily, without objection. He still held her hand, but now his hands were burning, his skin seemed to be ablaze. He did not bother to wipe away his tears, or dare try to hide it.
The silence was broken.
"I love you, Hermione," he whispered. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." His heart was so heavy, so troubled. He could feel it start to drop, he could feel it start to tear and rip. The tears in his eyes stung with a harshness that sliced through the coldness of the air in the infirmary. His body was trembling, his words so hurt and pained. He held her hand tighter.
"Hermione... I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do without you. I need you here; I need you here by my side. I know I can't bring you back... but, please. Please. I love you so much, Hermione."
His throat was rough and dry, as he tried to swallow the painful knot that had started to form. His chest and lungs felt as if they tightly wrapped and compressed; he could not breathe.
But he didn't care.
He didn't care.
"I wasn't ready to lose you," he said, his whisper shaky. "I don't know what to do. It hurts so much." He bowed his head, and he closed his eyes. He felt his tears travel down his face, and he could taste them as they entered his mouth.
He had always believed there was a God. He had always believed that there was fate, a destiny for each of them. He knew there were choices; he knew there were consequences.
But now he found himself asking him, God. He asked him what he was to do, how he could wash away the pain. He asked him why he had to take her away from him, and if he would ever find happiness again.
He asked why. He just had to, he had to know.
He asked him why Hermione was stolen from him.
But there was nothing. No response. Just a roaring in his ears, and the pounding heartbeats and hammering pulse in his veins. He could hear his sobs. He could hear the shattering, the breaking.
What was his fate to be? Alone and sad? What was he to do when everyone found happiness and love, and he was left all alone?
What was he to do then?
He missed her. He missed her. He just wanted her back.
"I miss you, Hermione," he whispered. His words were shaky and almost silent, but he could hear it chime through the Hospital Wing. "I miss you."
He was lost. He had never felt it as strong as this before, he had never felt it grabbing at his throat and strangling him. Doubt was invading him and he could feel the hints of anger and bitterness start to grow. He could feel bony and cold fingers jab into his heart, and enclose around it like a prisoner. He couldn't yell or shout for help. No one would hear him. No one would come to save him, to rescue him.
"Harry."
It was a gentle and soft voice. It was kind. Like an angel's. He recognized it. He heard it in his dreams. He heard it ring in his mind, filling him pleasantly, like a summer song. He missed it so terribly, he wasn't sure it was real. His eyes were closed tightly, and he could still feel his body shake. The tears were still falling. He knew no way to stop them now.
"Harry."
His mind was playing tricks on him again. His longing thoughts had triggered this. He kept his eyes shut, but this time he pressed harder. He saw flashes of colors dancing inside his eyelids.
Suddenly, he felt something shift inside his palm. It brushed against his fingers, and pressed gently against the skin of his palm. It was soft and warm. His heartbeats faded into silence, as he opened his eyes.
The world seemed to freeze, time halted.
He raised his head, and he was met with a sight that made his heart stop.
He didn't know if it was real. He didn't know if it was a dream, a trick, or a mirage. But he couldn't think straight anymore. His thoughts seemed to have scattered and run away. He was speechless, as he opened his mouth.
Hermione smiled down at him. Her brown eyes were warm and kind, her fingers entwining with his. Her smile wasn't wide, but it was gentle and loving. She was sitting up, her brown curls framing her face. Her hand enclosed around his, and he felt warmth erupt from his fingers and palms, tingling its way up his arm.
His eyes were aching; his breath had halted in his throat.
"Harry," she said again, in a whisper. It filled his ears like a lovely secret, caressing his heart and warming it, melting away all the frost and mending all of its tears and rips.
"Hermione?" he said, as he quickly drew in a breath. His eyes were disbelieving but his heart wanted nothing but to believe. "Hermione?"
She nodded slightly, her smile widening and her eyes starting sparkle.
Immediately, without thinking, Harry got up on his feet and embraced her.
It wasn't a mirage, or a trick. It was her. It was really her.
He inhaled her scent, and it was just as he remembered. He felt tears well up in his eyes, once again. He held her tightly, firmly, never wanting to let go.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him.
He buried his face in her hair, letting the tears fall from his eyes. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it. He blinked hard, letting more tears free, as he tightened his embrace.
"Hermione, I thought I'd lost you," he whispered into her ear.
"No... no, Harry. You could never lose me. I'll always be right here, right beside you. I promised you. I'd never leave you."
Harry let out a sigh, feeling his heart beat ecstatically. His blood was pounding inside his ears, his nerves crackling and sparking, embers flashing from inside him.
She was here. He hadn't lost her at all.
He could feel his heart rejoicing, praising, shouting. The sudden happiness overwhelmed him, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He felt as if he couldn't breathe.
He just couldn't believe it.
Just then, he could feel her slowly pulling away. He held onto her, but she unwrapped her arms around him.
"Harry... Harry, let me look at you." Hesitant, he pulled away.
He looked at her, into her eyes, his face just inches from hers. Her eyes were dancing, but still faint, as he saw her take in his features.
"I've missed you, Harry," she whispered to him, as she brought up her hand to his cheek. She touched his cheek with her fingers, and he could feel warmth igniting from her fingertips. She laid her palm against him, as she moved her hand slightly forward. "I kept seeing you. I kept trying to make my way back to you, but I couldn't."
Tears glimmered in Harry eyes, as he also raised his hand and laid it against her cheek. His fingers traced against her jaw line, her cheek, and brushed against her lips.
"I love you, Hermione," he said, tears slipping from his eyes. "I love you so much." And with that, they fell into each other's arms again, holding tightly, focusing on the feeling of each other in their arms.
Harry let out a tearful smile, as he could feel her heart pounding against his.
She was here.
She was alive.
It was moments later that they pulled back again, and Harry was surprised to find tears in her eyes as well. He brushed his thumb underneath her eyes, wiping away her tears.
"Don't cry," he said to her. "Don't cry." Hermione broke into a wide smile at the ironic remark, as she sniffled, and this caused Harry to laugh faintly.
"But, Harry..." she raised her hand and stroked his cheek. It was only then that Harry realized that she was wiping away his tears, also. "You're... you're..."
"I'm crying," he whispered, as she smiled up at him. "I'm crying as well."
"But... I'd never... you've never... cried, in front of me," she said, her voice so soft.
"I thought I'd lost you," he said quietly.
"That's silly," she smiled, tears slipping from her eyes. "You'd never lose me, Harry." Harry chuckled faintly.
He met her eyes, his eyes full of seriousness and love, longing and reason. Her eyes were innocent and calm, but somehow, there was something in them that he knew... was different. It was something like, fear, or uncertainty.
"Promise me," he whispered to her. Her eyes flickered, searching his.
"What? What do you mean?"
"Promise me that I'll never lose you. Promise me." The color of her deep brown eyes deepened, as a faint breath played on her lips.
"I promise," she whispered, catching his other hand in hers. "I promise that you'll never lose me."
"You don't know that, "Harry said, his voice lowering. "You don't know that."
"I'm sorry," she said to him. "I really am."
"Tell me... tell me this isn't a dream. Tell me I won't wake up and find you gone." She smiled kindly, her warm brown eyes sparking embers and flares inside him.
"This isn't a dream. This is real, Harry. You're not going to wake up and find me anywhere else but by your side. I love you, Harry."
Just then, Harry saw it. In her eyes. He knew what was different. Something was missing, something was absent and lost. Usually, her eyes were knowing and they told him her concerns and worries. But this time, they were innocent and... dark. Something was wrong.
"Hermione," he said quietly, pulling his hands away from her. "What happened?" Harry watched Hermione as her gaze lowered, looking at her hands, which once held his. "What happened?" he pressed. "I want you to tell me."
She looked back up at him again, but her eyes were wide. He saw fear and confusion, uncertainty darkening her eyes.
"Harry," she breathed. She was shaking.
"Hermione?" he said, his voice fearful and worried. His eyes were flickering, panic crossing his features. "What's wrong? What's happening?"
Just then, he saw her eyes roll back, and her body fell onto him. He grabbed her shoulders, trying to keep her up so he could see her face, but his body was still weak. His fingers were trembling with horror, his eyes flashing with alarm.
"Hermione? Hermione? Hermione!" he said, his voice getting louder. "Hermione? Come back to me! What's happening? Please, Hermione!" Harry's thoughts were scurrying again, he could not think straight, his heart beating faster and harder in his chest. "Hermione! Please! What happened?"
"Harry?" he turned his head in the direction of the voice, and he discovered to see Ron, sitting up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. "Harry? What's happening?" his voice was raspy and rough.
"Ron!" he shouted, frantic. "Ron, go and get Madam Pomfrey! Now! Go!" Ron's eyes widened in confusion, but his eyes traveled over to Hermione, and Harry saw fear flash across his face.
"What's happening?" he asked, confused.
"Go get Madam Pomfrey! Go, Ron!" Ron nodded his head, uncertain and scared, as he quickly swung his legs over the bed, untangling himself from the sheets, as he bolted to Madam Pomfrey's office.
Harry still held Hermione in his arms, his breaths ragged and hard. He was so scared, so afraid. She had been here, talking to him. He had been holding her.
He couldn't lose her again.
They couldn't take her away from him again, no, they just couldn't.
Harry's heart was beating faster than he cared to notice, but his mouth became dry and his fingers were fidgeting. His body was shaking in fear.
Just then, he heard oncoming, rapid footsteps. He turned his head and saw a confused but determined Madam Pomfrey, Ron running in front of her. Ron hurried to his side, while Madam Pomfrey fastened her pace and reached Hermione's opposite side.
Madam Pomfrey grasped both of Hermione's shoulders, as Harry let go of her, and they laid her back on the bed. She was muttering things under her breath, not out of the sudden interruption, but out of confusion and fear. Harry watched, as Ron grabbed his arm and pulled him back, Madam Pomfrey put her fingers to Hermione's neck and wrist.
She looked up at them, her eyes wide, alarm drawn all over her face. Harry's breath ceased in his throat, at the look in her eyes.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," she said, her voice quiet but hurried. There was shock but no hesitation at all evident in her voice. "Run over to your Transfiguration class and fetch Albus and Minerva. They are supposedly still trying to understand the amulet. Now, go, and hurry."
Harry nodded, as he got off the bed and he and Ron sped out of the infirmary, and out into the corridors.
Harry ran at his full speed to their Transfiguration class, his breaths hard but paced. The hallways and corridors were empty, and their swift footsteps echoed. The torches were still lit, the flames flickering and dancing weakly in the dim darkness. They passed classrooms, and ran up flights of stairs, before the doors of the classroom finally came into view. Harry willed his legs to go faster, as he passed Ron and burst into the classroom, where a confused and a stern looking Professor and Headmaster stood.
Ron soon caught up to him, as he halted right at his side, putting his hands to his knees and panting heavily. Dumbledore looked at them in alarm, his blue eyes behind their half-moon spectacles darkening noticeably.
It was Harry who spoke first, his determination and fear evident in his eyes and quick but firm words.
"It's Hermione," he said, still breathing hard. "She was alive, but she- there's something wrong with her. Madam Pomfrey needs you in the Hospital Wing quickly and urgently." Dumbledore nodded once, as he and Minerva walked towards them in a brisk pace. Minerva McGonagall halted in front him and Ron, giving them a firm look.
"We'll meet you two boys there," she said, and with a swish of her hunter green robes, she had walked past them and disappeared.
Harry turned, Ron following closely behind, as he ran out of the classroom and into the corridor.
He stopped, turning his gaze in both directions, puzzled. There was no trace of them, and the corridor went on for a lengthy way.
"Where'd they go?" Ron said, still lightly panting. "They were just here. There's no way they could have walked or even run that fast." Harry let out a sigh.
"Let's go," Harry said, not answering his question, and he got on his feet again, back to the Hospital Wing. Ron followed behind him.
oooo
They finally reached the Hospital Wing, out of breath, tired, and a pain forming in the sides of both of their bodies. Harry stopped in front of the infirmary, his heart pounding, trying to leap out of his chest, and a burning ache throbbing at his side. He reached for the handles, and held them down as he tried to push in, but they wouldn't budge. Harry tried again, with more force this time.
"What's happening?" Ron asked, his voice raspy.
"It won't open," Harry said, as he tried again.
"What? How could- how could that happen?" he asked, confused and afraid.
"I don't know," Harry replied, still trying. "Come on, help me." Ron got to his side and pushed. The doors still wouldn't budge. They tried again, Harry pushing with all his might.
"Maybe, maybe they've locked it."
"What? Why would they do that?"
"I don't know. To keep other students out?"
"Ron... I don't know." Harry sighed, letting go of the handle and stepping back. "Everything's been so... odd, lately. Everything's been so tiring, and frustrating. I don't even know anymore. There's a part of me that wants to know, but the other part's just refusing. Everything's just been so bloody devastating. I don't know if I can take anymore of it." Ron was silent for a few seconds, obviously thinking.
"Harry... when I woke up... you and... What happened?" His eyebrows were furrowed and there were creases of puzzlement on his forehead.
"Ron, I—"
Suddenly, the Hospital Wing's doors opened. Harry and Ron stepped back in alarm and surprise. Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway, her face still stern. Harry tried to see what they had been talking about through her expression, but it was evident to him that she hid it on purpose, and that she didn't want them to know.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," she acknowledged them. In the background, he could hear Dumbledore speaking.
"It's extraordinary, all my years here, I have never seen anything like it," Harry heard him say. He glanced at Ron, and he was positive Ron had heard it too, from the look on his face.
"Professor, might we come inside?" Harry asked.
"I apologize, Mr. Potter, but—"
She halted her words at the sound of Dumbledore's voice, louder this time, obviously directed at her.
"That's alright, Minerva," he said. "You can let them in. What we will discuss is important for them to hear."
"Very well, then. You may come in." She opened the doors for them, as he and Ron walked in, and she closed the door promptly and quietly behind them.
Harry took note of the looks on Dumbledore's and Madam Pomfrey's faces, and was eager to hear to what they had to tell them. Dumbledore's sapphire eyes were dancing, his aged face supporting a smile. Harry took a deep breath, as he sat down by Hermione's side, where he had been before. Ron took a seat beside him, his eyes flickering between the teachers.
"First, Mr. Potter, before we can tell you about Ms. Granger's condition, we need you to tell us what happened, so we can be sure and clarify any mistakes or miscalculations." Harry nodded, prompting Dumbledore to go on.
"Very well, then," he continued. "Mr. Potter, we need you to tell us exactly what happened, from the moment you awoke to the moment you called for help and assistance." Harry took a deep breath, as he looked at Hermione. She was still on the bed, though her eyes were closed and she was still and motionless.
"I woke up, and it was still dark. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I got up and walked over to Hermione's side, and sat down where I am now." Dumbledore nodded. "And... I just sat here." Harry wasn't sure if he was to tell exactly what he had been doing, meaning his tears, but the look in his Headmaster's eyes assured him that he needn't need to, and that he already understood. Harry went on. "I bowed my head, and closed my eyes... and there was a voice. Her voice. But I didn't look up, because I thought that it was just my imagination or mind, playing some sort of trick on me. But I heard it again, and she was saying my name. And I looked up. And that's when... that's when I saw her." A faint smile played on Harry's lips, as he revisited the memory. It had felt so good to see her again, smiling down on him.
"She was sitting up, and I couldn't believe it. We talked for a short time, but I noticed that there was... something, something different about her." The smile faded, as his gaze darkened. "It was in her eyes. I-I just couldn't explain it. But then, I asked her what happened. And that's when it happened. She looked scared, and she... she fell against me. She seemed to be unconscious. And that's when Ron woke and I told him to get Madam Pomfrey."
Harry's eyes were on her face, not daring to look up at the spectators. He had an uneasy feeling inside him, but there was something, a voice, that was telling him everything was going to be just fine. He didn't know whether to believe it. He wanted to. He wanted to believe it with all his heart.
"Well, Mr. Potter," he finally heard Dumbledore say. He could hear a smile in his voice, and that's when Harry raised his gaze, to find a joyful Dumbledore looking down on him. He watched Dumbledore also turn to Ron. "And you too, Mr. Weasley," he chuckled. "I am happy to announce joyful news. Ms. Granger is going to be just fine."
Harry found that he couldn't breathe, and he had to steady and calm himself.
He heard Ron let out a big sigh next to him, and he felt him pat his shoulder, as Harry looked to him and found him smiling at him. Harry finally let out a breath, as he closed his eyes for a moment, relieved.
"Thank you, Headmaster," he said quietly. He heard Dumbledore's chuckle.
"Mr. Potter, Professor McGonagall and I apologize. It seems that the amulet had worked. It was a strange and sudden turn of events and occurrences, really. We were certain that she had passed on. Her pulse and her heartbeat had completely stopped. But, I guess you can say, love can really conquer anything and everything." Harry smiled, as he finally got his body to take a breath.
"However, Mr. Potter," he looked over to a concerned looking Professor. "Though the outlook is clear and calls for relief and celebration, there are is a... setback." Harry's smile vanished.
"What is it?" Harry asked, Ron's hand tightening on his shoulder.
"Well," she hesitated, as she looked over to Madam Pomfrey, who nodded. "You said yourself that there had been a difference, in Ms. Granger. She had not answered right away when you had asked her what had happened, correct?" Harry nodded. "We have discovered that Ms. Granger... well, it is very difficult, Mr. Potter, to be the one to say this to you, but Ms. Granger has no account of what happened from the incident, or much less after that."
Confusion and questions were etched all over Harry's pale face.
"What?" he asked.
"She cannot remember," Dumbledore answered for the Professor, "what happened, Harry. Apparently, the amulet worked, but her memory had been altered and her most vivid and recent memories have been wiped out. She does not remember, or know, what happened the past few days. But, the change is not permanent. Madam Pomfrey has given her a serum that will restore it all back. Though this will take time, we are sure that it will be successful and Ms. Granger will have all of her memories."
Harry sighed in relief, closing his eyes for a second.
"But, how long will it take? Until she's well? Graduation is only a matter of months—"
"Graduation," McGonagall corrected, "is little over a month away." A slight smile began to spread through her features. "Mr. Potter, the serum is quick, and very powerful. It will take less than a week, around two to three days. However, we must ask that you not visit until she is fully recovered," Harry's heart sank at this, "it may slow the process and maybe even alter the purpose and intentions of the serum."
Harry nodded, silent.
"Alright then," he said. "We won't visit. But will you tell us immediately when she is well?" Professor McGonagall nodded.
"Mr. Potter, we won't waste a minute. Madam Pomfrey will do just that." Madam Pomfrey nodded, reassuring him.
"Okay. Thanks," Harry said, weakly. He just realized how tired his body still seemed to be.
"Well, now that has been cleared out of the way," Dumbledore said, cheerfully. "I think you two boys should head on back to your dormitories, and change into fresh clothes. Only very few classes will resume, for we have done the required tests about several months ago. I must warn you to be careful about what you inform your peers; there are many peculiar rumors floating around these halls, and I wouldn't want a media explosion outside of our doors. I have to ask you to tell as little as possible, and confirm even less. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Headmaster," the two boys nodded.
"Well then, you two better get on your way. It is just about an hour before the sun should rise, if I am correct, and you might want to catch up on some sleep. I am sorry these past few days have been very suspenseful and tiring, but one should hope this is the last time these things should happen."
And with that, Harry and Ron stood, shaking their Professor and Headmaster's hands, and made their way out of the Hospital Wing, with a light heart and a sparking eagerness for their oncoming days.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. Only the plot.
ooooooooooooooooooo
Well... From the reviews, it seems that I have upset quite a lot of you. I apologize. One of you said that, if I had planned for Hermione to die, then why lag it on or drag it on for as far as I did? Now I see that you have lost faith in me and my writing.
First of all, I promised a happy ending, and yes, you will receive just that. I don't think that a happy ending requires a dead Hermione, do you? I am sorry if you think I have led you on or have lied to you, but I must tell you that I never intended to let you down in any way. I really am sorry. But there is quite more to this story, and I must ask you to stick around. Because the sun also rises and shines, you know. It's not just gloom and doom in here, though it seems like it.
Some of you told me that you were confused, from the ending of the last chapter. Believe what you want; but this chapter will reveal Hermione's fate. I am sorry that in the beginning, I ramble on for so long and you think its nonsense. But I assure you that it does go somewhere.
More importantly, the dreams that Harry has been having; swimming in darkness, and all that, is just, well, it's from the Cure's 'Just Like Heaven'. If you look in the song excerpt below, it says: Alone above a raging sea... That stole the only girl I love...and drowned her deep inside of me.... Well, that's why he's been having those dreams. Swimming in darkness, and all that stuff. I can't really explain it, but it just really made sense to me, to put in those dreams, after reading those beautiful lyrics (written by the brilliant Robert Smith). Well, I hope you bestow at least more faith in me and believe that I will provide a happy and fluffy ending for our favorite pair, because that's my only plan for this story. And no, this is not yet the end. Some people are asking me if it's the end... and I ask myself if I haven't made it clear enough. I assure you that when it is finally the end, you'll know. A few more chapters.
ooooooooooooooooooo
".... Daylight licked me into shape
I must have been asleep for days
And moving lips to breathe her name
I opened up my eyes
And found myself alone
Alone
Alone above a raging sea
That stole the only girl I loved
And drowned her deep inside of me...."
--The Cure, Just Like Heaven
ooooooooooooo
Promise
There was a distinct and far sound, muffled and subdued. His body was tired and weak; he felt almost paralyzed. His energy was drained, and his thoughts carried no spark or fleck of protest or spirit. His soul seemed to be battered and torn to pieces.
He was swimming in a sweet, intoxicating and addicting darkness.
It was fluid and swayed gently but ever so powerfully that it carried his tall body with the current. It filled his mouth with a warm and inviting saccharine taste, and then slid down his throat to warm his aching lungs. It was silent, but it was a sort of silence that was expected and accepted dutifully without a care or objection.
He hadn't known this before. It was calm, and he was at peace.
But this wasn't the sort of peace he thought someday he might achieve. It was one that kept him trapped inside, one that kept him swimming in the darkness, never reaching the surface or nearing it. It was one that embraced him, not lovingly, but with sinister and mysterious intentions that he was too afraid to uncover.
He felt light, but he still felt that heavy burden that he had known for far too long. His heart was still functioning, beating, sending blood to course through his veins... but somehow, it made no difference.
His heart was beating, but he didn't know if he was alive.
There was a stinging pain deep inside him that made him want to think that he wasn't. It was the only sort of pain, the only sort of wound that the darkness could not soothe or swallow.
And it became stronger.
It throbbed with raw purpose, spreading and aiming farther, stabbing deeper. It was cold but it burned without mercy, as he felt himself double over in pain. He could feel his hand clutch his chest, eyes closed tightly, biting his tongue from crying out.
Just then, the peace and solitude he knew, vanished.
The current became stronger, fierce with jaws and hands that grabbed to crush him whole. The silence was replaced with a loud roaring and bellowing that made his ears ache. The darkness became darker, and the once sweet taste turned acidic and bile.
It filled his mouth and slid down his throat, leaving a smoldering trail. It filled and made his lungs crumble in pieces, making it impossible for him to breathe.
He unclenched his jaw and yelled out, but there was nothing. His shout was non-existent.
He felt his heart beating, faster and faster. Soon it was at such a rapid pace that it hurt. He could hear its booming beats, as if it were to detonate any second from inside him. His pulse was racing and his blood was so icy it seemed to pierce through the walls of his blood vessels.
Inside his eyelids, he saw swirls of color and slivers of trinket silver. He felt something rip and claw at his skin, tearing the flesh off of his bones.
He tried to call out again, but there was nothing.
Just then, he felt his heartbeats slow into a stifled pounding. He could feel everything fading away, the sensation of his surroundings growing fainter wrapping around him. The current had lost its sway and the acid, tart taste in his mouth and throat disappeared.
The harsh roaring was now a weak solace, but it seemed different than before.
He noticed the quick transition. It was like the winter thaw before spring. It made the atmosphere different, but it didn't take anything away at all.
He didn't feel the same cold bitterness, but instead a warm and welcoming one. He noticed how the sway had stopped for a moment, and was now rocking him gently.
But he still saw the same darkness.
Just then, he saw something start to appear or emerge from the darkness. It was a face, a beautiful and delicate face. One that was fit for hearty and melting brown eyes and a genuine and wide smile.
Little by little, the face became clearer. The features started to appear.
His heartbeats ceased as he saw who it was before him.
It was her.
She was smiling down on him, her deep brown eyes sparkling and glossy with tears. And he saw himself, asleep on a bed. His vision trailed down, and he found that she was holding his hand. The scene seemed to be playing before his eyes, though he was not sure if it was real or whether it was something his longing thoughts and imagination had created.
But he had felt it. That warmth, that sweet and gentle warmth that he could never miss or overlook. He had felt it trace against his palm and entwine with his fingers.
And it had felt real. He had felt her soft hands against his.
It had to be real.
But as he watched the scene with a vague familiarity, confusion mounded inside his mind and fought against his heart's protests.
He was watching her hold his hand, though he was asleep on the bed. How could he be here, seeing all of this?
He shook his head solemnly.
It couldn't be real. Though he didn't want to believe it, he knew he couldn't fool himself again.
It was just a dream.
Suddenly, he heard a whisper. His attention sharpened on the sight before him.
"Hermione?"
Something clicked inside of his mind, but it was formless and fuzzy. He could not place the strange familiarity of the scene and whispered words.
"I'm here, Harry. I'm right here."
Her voice was kind and gentle, and he felt his heart break from hearing her say those words.
It was a lie. She wasn't there. She was no longer by his side.
Dreams were ruthless and all they did was lie and give false hope.
It was not fair that he was still haunted by her and the accompanying pain in his dreams.
She was gone.
He didn't know how to face the rest of the world, or the rest of his life without her, but he knew he had to. He had to keep going.
But he didn't want to. He wanted to stay in this dreams forever, and just watch her. To just see her face, to just see her smile again. He didn't care if he ever woke up. Just as long as he didn't have to face the cold and harsh reality where she no longer held a place.
And it hurt, it did.
But she still held a place in his heart.
He could not make it vanish or disappear; if he had such a power he would use it to erase the pain and move on. He could not even try to soothe or help it heal.
He knew he would live on and it would still be the same; there would be no difference at all. She was still going to be there. In his heart, reminding him of the times when he was truly happy and content.
And maybe it would keep him bitter and cold. Maybe he would lock himself out of contact from the world that had stolen the only girl he loved away from him. But he knew better, though at times he insisted that he didn't. Sometimes he didn't want reasons, and sometimes he might just wanted to mourn over his loss and broken heart.
But he would still see her face. Her warm and laughing brown eyes that he would get lost in at times. Her smile and her soft laughter that he adored.
A memory. A place in his heart and a mere memory.
Is that really all he could offer?
But before he could try to search for such an answer, an overwhelming and deep feeling filled him. It was light but powerful, and it made his blood rush faster and his heart beat with fervor.
Suddenly, he felt as if he was plunged deeper inside the darkness. It was sort of like... falling. But there was no panic or frantic thoughts scattering in his mind. It was soothing and it felt better than anything else.
And so he gave in without resistance.
He fell.
oooooo
Harry opened his eyes, his eyelids still heavy. He could feel the dryness surrounding his eyes and he knew it was what was left from his tears from the night before.
He sighed, as he stared up at the blurry white, nude, ceiling above him.
It was still dark, just hours before the sun would rise. The curtains had been pulled over the windows, but he knew just what was waiting outside the Hogwarts grounds. He recognized the chill in the Hospital Wing enough to know that there was a light snowfall happening right at the moment.
He swallowed hard, trying to consume that dry and rough feeling in his throat.
He lay motionless, his gaze unwavering from the ceiling. His breaths were shallow and paced, his arms were completely still beside him. It was as if he was afraid to move. As if something was to pounce on him if he were to move an inch.
In his mind, there was a disturbing silence. But he saw things; he saw his memories playing before his eyes. It was heart breaking and painful, for they only reminded him of what he had and what he had lost, but he could never stop them if he tried.
He closed his eyes slowly.
His body was weak, tired. He felt as if his limbs were far too heavy to lift or move. His heartbeats were only occasional, a faint thud now and then. In his head there was a gentle lullaby playing that seemed to be fading with every tick the clock sounded.
He refused to think about what had happened, but he had no choice.
He knew that Dumbledore had enacted some sort of spell on him. And he wasn't bitter or angry about it at all. The spell had relieved him and made all the agony and pain vanish. Seeing her there, lifeless on one of the pure white Hospital Wing's beds, was something that made him lose his control and made him hurt more than he could have ever imagined.
She was gone.
And though he didn't want to believe it, a small part of him did just that.
He felt weak, small and defeated.
He had lost.
He didn't want to think about his life. He didn't want to think what was to happen after he left this room, or after he left Hogwarts. It was too much to bear. He didn't want to think about how he would be without her, or how the silence and emptiness of a small room could break him down and make him fall to his knees. He did not want to think about how he would think about her everyday, or the fact that his heart would never be mended.
He didn't want to think about the pain reminiscing would bring to him when he thought of her. He wanted to lock away all of his memories, clear his mind.
He knew he would never be able to move on if the thought of her still opened up new wounds, and stabbed into the old ones. He knew it would keep and hold him back. It would keep him underneath the same storm clouds; keep him living in the same painful past.
He didn't want to let go.
He hadn't wanted to lose hope.
But he knew that there were times where life didn't give choices. It shoved one choice in your way, and that was all you could make do with. He knew that life wasn't fair and that people lost people who were too pure and innocent. He knew that sometimes death took the ones who didn't deserve to go.
He knew all this.
He could accept it.
But it stuck white-hot daggers through his heart and pierced through his weary body, and he found himself turning away from it, stubbornly.
He wondered when the world had become such a place like this. Where no one was ever safe when they thought they finally were, and where wickedness could overcome a heart in good. He wondered why revenge became so important and he wondered how revenge could blind a person and everything and anything else didn't matter anymore. He wondered when the world became cruel and heartless, where people lost their love to the shadows of death and evil. He wondered why the world no longer held a shining torch for hope.
And maybe he had seen and known this all before. Maybe he had accepted it and maybe he had never questioned it. But somehow, thinking about it now, staring up at the colorless ceiling, he had a different view. He used to think he was just an onlooker, a bystander who saw all these things and tried to put a stop to them. But he had lost a person close to his heart, and he didn't know if he was just a spectator anymore. A passerby who had seen such things could have never felt such pain, such heartbreak, such loss. It was different. Everything was different.
And Harry didn't know if he could speak about such things to anyone, or voice them into the silent air surrounding him. Maybe over time, maybe if he lost himself enough to push the pain away. Maybe if he found another love. But he found it unspeakable, for the time being. He was voiceless on the matter. Whether he chose to be, or he just was, he didn't know. All he knew was that the pain was just too sacred and deeper than he or any person could ever imagine. He was just afraid that if he were ever to speak about such a thing, he would lose or run out of words. It was indescribable. There just weren't enough words.
Harry opened his eyes, and was met with the same sight. It was still silent in the infirmary, besides his rhythmic shallow breaths. Gloom and a faint sadness drifted about in the air, though he was positive one who didn't know what recent events that had happened here could never tell the difference. The walls had ears, the ceiling had eyes, the room alone had so many secrets to tell to those who would listen.
Harry sighed inaudibly, the blank sight he was gazing upon becoming blurry. His eyes stung with familiar warmth. He could feel his lungs start to ache, his heart start to thrash and call out.
Things just weren't the same. They were so different. Things were so sad, so serious, so silent. This wasn't where he wanted to be. The silence allowed memories and reminiscing. The silence allowed him to dwell upon what had happened. The silence allowed him pain, and nothing else.
He wanted an escape.
Harry closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to convince himself this was some dream, or nightmare that he would wake up from soon enough. But as he opened his eyes, he was met with the same sight. He felt the warmth escape from his eyes and slide down his face, colliding with the coldness of his skin. He couldn't help but give out a ragged and deep sigh, as he closed his eyes again.
He felt it building up inside him, inside his chest, inside his lungs, inside his heart. That same burning, creeping up inside his flesh and tearing at his organs. His lungs became hot and compacted, and he couldn't breathe in any more than he could breathe out. It was a painful, internal suffocation. Somehow he knew this feeling once before, but it was much more stronger now.
Harry wiped his eyes and willed himself up. He pressed his hands against the mattress and sheets of the bed, as he sat up on the bed. He found his vision weary and unclear, even with the tears, as he reached over for his glasses. He put it on slowly, but without hesitation, as he sighed again and looked around.
There were faint shadows shading the walls and parts of the floors, like marked territories. He looked beside him, and he found the beds neat and tidy, the blankets clean and unwrinkled. The pillows were fluffed and kept. But as he turned his head in the opposite direction, he found himself looking at a sleeping boy. Harry slightly smiled, as he saw familiar ginger hair peeking out from the pale sheets. And then he turned his gaze right across from his bed, to the row of beds in front of him. His smile vanished and his gaze dimmed, as he saw that they hadn't sent her body elsewhere overnight.
With a heavy heart, he got up from his bed and walked over to her bed quietly.
He pulled up a chair beside her bed, and leaned forward, his elbows propped on the bed, as he reached for her hand. He enclosed his hands around it, slowly, before he entwined his fingers with hers. He watched his actions, trying to memorize the feel of her smooth, creamy skin with his. Something inside told him that there was something different, but he ignored it and shoved it in the dark corners of his mind.
His eyes trailed up her arm, still in her crimson dress robes, as they finally landed on her face. He felt his eyes sting again, as his heart became heavier and heavier.
She had the face of an angel. Calm, peaceful, kind, and beautiful in a way that he could never describe in words.
His memories returned, this time vivid and detailed, as if he was reliving it all over again. He saw her again, at the ball, the way he had gotten lost in her eyes and the way the world and their other peers had vanished in a matter of seconds. He remembered the warmth that had trickled up his body, holding her in his arms again. She had looked so beautiful that he had known he had to try again, just try to make her understand that he couldn't be without her.
He saw her, her face streaked with tears and her eyes hurt, and pleading for his reasonableness to return. He remembered the way she had cried onto his chest, the way her tears had soaked through his robes and shirt, sticking to his skin. He remembered the way she clung onto him so tightly and firmly, never wanting to let him leave. And he remembered not wanting to leave. He remembered wanting to confess to her, pour out what was burdening his heart, what had kept it too heavy all through these years. He wanted to let her know that he would do whatever it took to come back for her, he would do whatever it took to come back and be with her.
He loved her.
But he loved her too much to tell her.
He remembered the way he held her, and his heart ached; all he wanted was to hold her again. All he wanted was to see her smile; all he wanted was to hear her voice. All he wanted, in this world, was to be able to live with the only girl he had loved all these years. All he wanted, was to be happy.
He heard it in his ears, once again. The way her voice was so soft and gentle, so fragile and delicate. He remembered how it shook from her tears, but how it was so honest and strong. He remembered when she had told him that she loved him.
Harry bowed his head forward, holding her hand tightly between his. The tears were leaking out, slipping out from his eyes with so much ease. His heart was so heavy, still so burdened. He could feel the bittersweet drops slide down his face. He could taste it in his mouth. Salty, translucent as it seemed. It tasted of sadness and pain, sorrow and loss. Heartbreak. Lost love. Broken love.
He had tried to be strong. He had tried to overcome every obstacle: leaving her, fighting Voldemort, returning. He had tried to overcome every single problem without letting his heart fall in pieces and ruin to the pit of his stomach. He had tried to be strong.
For her. It was all for her.
He had to be strong for her.
He had always tried to keep the tears back, to keep it from slipping out though at times it hurt too much to bear. He had done just that. At times when he was weak and he needed reassurance but there was none to be found, he had kept it inside. When he had to leave his heart behind with his cloud of doubt growing stronger with each second, he had kept it in.
But this... this, was just something that had taken him and broken him whole.
It broke his spirit, his faith, his hope, his heart. His thoughts were useless and now they were aged and weary. His hope had been blown out like a single, flickering and weak candle in a dark room. His faith had been carried away into the tide of the lost. His heart... his heart.
His heart was where she was. His heart was with her.
His heart, no matter what she thought, was and always had been in her hands. He had given it to her completely so long ago, that he had almost forgotten. Over time, he came to rely on her, like the oxygen he needed to inhale every moment. She was vital, she was important.
He never found it unusual, or awkward.
He remembered there were times when they would just sit alone, staring up at the sky in the Astronomy Tower. He remembered the sky would paint itself blushing and soft pinks, striking oranges and brilliant yellows. And he remembered looking at her, watching the way her eyes lit up and sparkled, and the way her mouth would be pulled into the most breath taking and beautiful smile he had ever seen.
He came to thinking this was all he needed. It was what he lived for.
Her smile.
It was enough. It was just enough, no questions at all.
He remembered thinking about it, those late nights when he could not sleep. He didn't remember realizing when he had fallen in love with her, or when he had started to love her, but it seemed as if he had always loved her.
And each day, every moment, every breath he would let out and back in his body, it would get stronger.
He knew nothing else. He didn't know, he couldn't imagine not loving her the way he did. It was just there, scarred into his soul and imprinted onto his heart. He knew nothing different.
He remembered thinking that he could never leave her, but he did. He remembered vowing never to let her in harm's way, but... she was. She was. Because of him. Just because of him.
He felt the pain increase inside of him, and soon the silent air about in the Hospital Wing was disturbed. It seemed as if the walls were listening attentively, the ceiling looking down on him sympathetically. But the silence was broken by the sounds of the sobs of a boy, who had done his best never to cry, but had lost. The pain was too great, the loss too immense.
Boys don't cry, he told himself. He had told himself so many times before.
But it didn't matter now. It didn't matter at all. He didn't care anymore. All he wanted was for the pain to end; all he wanted was something to calm him. He wanted her back. He just didn't understand.
What had he done? What had he done to lose her? Why did he have to lose her?
The questions echoed inside his mind, as his body shook and heaved from his sobs. The tears continued to fall easily, without objection. He still held her hand, but now his hands were burning, his skin seemed to be ablaze. He did not bother to wipe away his tears, or dare try to hide it.
The silence was broken.
"I love you, Hermione," he whispered. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." His heart was so heavy, so troubled. He could feel it start to drop, he could feel it start to tear and rip. The tears in his eyes stung with a harshness that sliced through the coldness of the air in the infirmary. His body was trembling, his words so hurt and pained. He held her hand tighter.
"Hermione... I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do without you. I need you here; I need you here by my side. I know I can't bring you back... but, please. Please. I love you so much, Hermione."
His throat was rough and dry, as he tried to swallow the painful knot that had started to form. His chest and lungs felt as if they tightly wrapped and compressed; he could not breathe.
But he didn't care.
He didn't care.
"I wasn't ready to lose you," he said, his whisper shaky. "I don't know what to do. It hurts so much." He bowed his head, and he closed his eyes. He felt his tears travel down his face, and he could taste them as they entered his mouth.
He had always believed there was a God. He had always believed that there was fate, a destiny for each of them. He knew there were choices; he knew there were consequences.
But now he found himself asking him, God. He asked him what he was to do, how he could wash away the pain. He asked him why he had to take her away from him, and if he would ever find happiness again.
He asked why. He just had to, he had to know.
He asked him why Hermione was stolen from him.
But there was nothing. No response. Just a roaring in his ears, and the pounding heartbeats and hammering pulse in his veins. He could hear his sobs. He could hear the shattering, the breaking.
What was his fate to be? Alone and sad? What was he to do when everyone found happiness and love, and he was left all alone?
What was he to do then?
He missed her. He missed her. He just wanted her back.
"I miss you, Hermione," he whispered. His words were shaky and almost silent, but he could hear it chime through the Hospital Wing. "I miss you."
He was lost. He had never felt it as strong as this before, he had never felt it grabbing at his throat and strangling him. Doubt was invading him and he could feel the hints of anger and bitterness start to grow. He could feel bony and cold fingers jab into his heart, and enclose around it like a prisoner. He couldn't yell or shout for help. No one would hear him. No one would come to save him, to rescue him.
"Harry."
It was a gentle and soft voice. It was kind. Like an angel's. He recognized it. He heard it in his dreams. He heard it ring in his mind, filling him pleasantly, like a summer song. He missed it so terribly, he wasn't sure it was real. His eyes were closed tightly, and he could still feel his body shake. The tears were still falling. He knew no way to stop them now.
"Harry."
His mind was playing tricks on him again. His longing thoughts had triggered this. He kept his eyes shut, but this time he pressed harder. He saw flashes of colors dancing inside his eyelids.
Suddenly, he felt something shift inside his palm. It brushed against his fingers, and pressed gently against the skin of his palm. It was soft and warm. His heartbeats faded into silence, as he opened his eyes.
The world seemed to freeze, time halted.
He raised his head, and he was met with a sight that made his heart stop.
He didn't know if it was real. He didn't know if it was a dream, a trick, or a mirage. But he couldn't think straight anymore. His thoughts seemed to have scattered and run away. He was speechless, as he opened his mouth.
Hermione smiled down at him. Her brown eyes were warm and kind, her fingers entwining with his. Her smile wasn't wide, but it was gentle and loving. She was sitting up, her brown curls framing her face. Her hand enclosed around his, and he felt warmth erupt from his fingers and palms, tingling its way up his arm.
His eyes were aching; his breath had halted in his throat.
"Harry," she said again, in a whisper. It filled his ears like a lovely secret, caressing his heart and warming it, melting away all the frost and mending all of its tears and rips.
"Hermione?" he said, as he quickly drew in a breath. His eyes were disbelieving but his heart wanted nothing but to believe. "Hermione?"
She nodded slightly, her smile widening and her eyes starting sparkle.
Immediately, without thinking, Harry got up on his feet and embraced her.
It wasn't a mirage, or a trick. It was her. It was really her.
He inhaled her scent, and it was just as he remembered. He felt tears well up in his eyes, once again. He held her tightly, firmly, never wanting to let go.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him.
He buried his face in her hair, letting the tears fall from his eyes. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it. He blinked hard, letting more tears free, as he tightened his embrace.
"Hermione, I thought I'd lost you," he whispered into her ear.
"No... no, Harry. You could never lose me. I'll always be right here, right beside you. I promised you. I'd never leave you."
Harry let out a sigh, feeling his heart beat ecstatically. His blood was pounding inside his ears, his nerves crackling and sparking, embers flashing from inside him.
She was here. He hadn't lost her at all.
He could feel his heart rejoicing, praising, shouting. The sudden happiness overwhelmed him, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He felt as if he couldn't breathe.
He just couldn't believe it.
Just then, he could feel her slowly pulling away. He held onto her, but she unwrapped her arms around him.
"Harry... Harry, let me look at you." Hesitant, he pulled away.
He looked at her, into her eyes, his face just inches from hers. Her eyes were dancing, but still faint, as he saw her take in his features.
"I've missed you, Harry," she whispered to him, as she brought up her hand to his cheek. She touched his cheek with her fingers, and he could feel warmth igniting from her fingertips. She laid her palm against him, as she moved her hand slightly forward. "I kept seeing you. I kept trying to make my way back to you, but I couldn't."
Tears glimmered in Harry eyes, as he also raised his hand and laid it against her cheek. His fingers traced against her jaw line, her cheek, and brushed against her lips.
"I love you, Hermione," he said, tears slipping from his eyes. "I love you so much." And with that, they fell into each other's arms again, holding tightly, focusing on the feeling of each other in their arms.
Harry let out a tearful smile, as he could feel her heart pounding against his.
She was here.
She was alive.
It was moments later that they pulled back again, and Harry was surprised to find tears in her eyes as well. He brushed his thumb underneath her eyes, wiping away her tears.
"Don't cry," he said to her. "Don't cry." Hermione broke into a wide smile at the ironic remark, as she sniffled, and this caused Harry to laugh faintly.
"But, Harry..." she raised her hand and stroked his cheek. It was only then that Harry realized that she was wiping away his tears, also. "You're... you're..."
"I'm crying," he whispered, as she smiled up at him. "I'm crying as well."
"But... I'd never... you've never... cried, in front of me," she said, her voice so soft.
"I thought I'd lost you," he said quietly.
"That's silly," she smiled, tears slipping from her eyes. "You'd never lose me, Harry." Harry chuckled faintly.
He met her eyes, his eyes full of seriousness and love, longing and reason. Her eyes were innocent and calm, but somehow, there was something in them that he knew... was different. It was something like, fear, or uncertainty.
"Promise me," he whispered to her. Her eyes flickered, searching his.
"What? What do you mean?"
"Promise me that I'll never lose you. Promise me." The color of her deep brown eyes deepened, as a faint breath played on her lips.
"I promise," she whispered, catching his other hand in hers. "I promise that you'll never lose me."
"You don't know that, "Harry said, his voice lowering. "You don't know that."
"I'm sorry," she said to him. "I really am."
"Tell me... tell me this isn't a dream. Tell me I won't wake up and find you gone." She smiled kindly, her warm brown eyes sparking embers and flares inside him.
"This isn't a dream. This is real, Harry. You're not going to wake up and find me anywhere else but by your side. I love you, Harry."
Just then, Harry saw it. In her eyes. He knew what was different. Something was missing, something was absent and lost. Usually, her eyes were knowing and they told him her concerns and worries. But this time, they were innocent and... dark. Something was wrong.
"Hermione," he said quietly, pulling his hands away from her. "What happened?" Harry watched Hermione as her gaze lowered, looking at her hands, which once held his. "What happened?" he pressed. "I want you to tell me."
She looked back up at him again, but her eyes were wide. He saw fear and confusion, uncertainty darkening her eyes.
"Harry," she breathed. She was shaking.
"Hermione?" he said, his voice fearful and worried. His eyes were flickering, panic crossing his features. "What's wrong? What's happening?"
Just then, he saw her eyes roll back, and her body fell onto him. He grabbed her shoulders, trying to keep her up so he could see her face, but his body was still weak. His fingers were trembling with horror, his eyes flashing with alarm.
"Hermione? Hermione? Hermione!" he said, his voice getting louder. "Hermione? Come back to me! What's happening? Please, Hermione!" Harry's thoughts were scurrying again, he could not think straight, his heart beating faster and harder in his chest. "Hermione! Please! What happened?"
"Harry?" he turned his head in the direction of the voice, and he discovered to see Ron, sitting up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. "Harry? What's happening?" his voice was raspy and rough.
"Ron!" he shouted, frantic. "Ron, go and get Madam Pomfrey! Now! Go!" Ron's eyes widened in confusion, but his eyes traveled over to Hermione, and Harry saw fear flash across his face.
"What's happening?" he asked, confused.
"Go get Madam Pomfrey! Go, Ron!" Ron nodded his head, uncertain and scared, as he quickly swung his legs over the bed, untangling himself from the sheets, as he bolted to Madam Pomfrey's office.
Harry still held Hermione in his arms, his breaths ragged and hard. He was so scared, so afraid. She had been here, talking to him. He had been holding her.
He couldn't lose her again.
They couldn't take her away from him again, no, they just couldn't.
Harry's heart was beating faster than he cared to notice, but his mouth became dry and his fingers were fidgeting. His body was shaking in fear.
Just then, he heard oncoming, rapid footsteps. He turned his head and saw a confused but determined Madam Pomfrey, Ron running in front of her. Ron hurried to his side, while Madam Pomfrey fastened her pace and reached Hermione's opposite side.
Madam Pomfrey grasped both of Hermione's shoulders, as Harry let go of her, and they laid her back on the bed. She was muttering things under her breath, not out of the sudden interruption, but out of confusion and fear. Harry watched, as Ron grabbed his arm and pulled him back, Madam Pomfrey put her fingers to Hermione's neck and wrist.
She looked up at them, her eyes wide, alarm drawn all over her face. Harry's breath ceased in his throat, at the look in her eyes.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," she said, her voice quiet but hurried. There was shock but no hesitation at all evident in her voice. "Run over to your Transfiguration class and fetch Albus and Minerva. They are supposedly still trying to understand the amulet. Now, go, and hurry."
Harry nodded, as he got off the bed and he and Ron sped out of the infirmary, and out into the corridors.
Harry ran at his full speed to their Transfiguration class, his breaths hard but paced. The hallways and corridors were empty, and their swift footsteps echoed. The torches were still lit, the flames flickering and dancing weakly in the dim darkness. They passed classrooms, and ran up flights of stairs, before the doors of the classroom finally came into view. Harry willed his legs to go faster, as he passed Ron and burst into the classroom, where a confused and a stern looking Professor and Headmaster stood.
Ron soon caught up to him, as he halted right at his side, putting his hands to his knees and panting heavily. Dumbledore looked at them in alarm, his blue eyes behind their half-moon spectacles darkening noticeably.
It was Harry who spoke first, his determination and fear evident in his eyes and quick but firm words.
"It's Hermione," he said, still breathing hard. "She was alive, but she- there's something wrong with her. Madam Pomfrey needs you in the Hospital Wing quickly and urgently." Dumbledore nodded once, as he and Minerva walked towards them in a brisk pace. Minerva McGonagall halted in front him and Ron, giving them a firm look.
"We'll meet you two boys there," she said, and with a swish of her hunter green robes, she had walked past them and disappeared.
Harry turned, Ron following closely behind, as he ran out of the classroom and into the corridor.
He stopped, turning his gaze in both directions, puzzled. There was no trace of them, and the corridor went on for a lengthy way.
"Where'd they go?" Ron said, still lightly panting. "They were just here. There's no way they could have walked or even run that fast." Harry let out a sigh.
"Let's go," Harry said, not answering his question, and he got on his feet again, back to the Hospital Wing. Ron followed behind him.
oooo
They finally reached the Hospital Wing, out of breath, tired, and a pain forming in the sides of both of their bodies. Harry stopped in front of the infirmary, his heart pounding, trying to leap out of his chest, and a burning ache throbbing at his side. He reached for the handles, and held them down as he tried to push in, but they wouldn't budge. Harry tried again, with more force this time.
"What's happening?" Ron asked, his voice raspy.
"It won't open," Harry said, as he tried again.
"What? How could- how could that happen?" he asked, confused and afraid.
"I don't know," Harry replied, still trying. "Come on, help me." Ron got to his side and pushed. The doors still wouldn't budge. They tried again, Harry pushing with all his might.
"Maybe, maybe they've locked it."
"What? Why would they do that?"
"I don't know. To keep other students out?"
"Ron... I don't know." Harry sighed, letting go of the handle and stepping back. "Everything's been so... odd, lately. Everything's been so tiring, and frustrating. I don't even know anymore. There's a part of me that wants to know, but the other part's just refusing. Everything's just been so bloody devastating. I don't know if I can take anymore of it." Ron was silent for a few seconds, obviously thinking.
"Harry... when I woke up... you and... What happened?" His eyebrows were furrowed and there were creases of puzzlement on his forehead.
"Ron, I—"
Suddenly, the Hospital Wing's doors opened. Harry and Ron stepped back in alarm and surprise. Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway, her face still stern. Harry tried to see what they had been talking about through her expression, but it was evident to him that she hid it on purpose, and that she didn't want them to know.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," she acknowledged them. In the background, he could hear Dumbledore speaking.
"It's extraordinary, all my years here, I have never seen anything like it," Harry heard him say. He glanced at Ron, and he was positive Ron had heard it too, from the look on his face.
"Professor, might we come inside?" Harry asked.
"I apologize, Mr. Potter, but—"
She halted her words at the sound of Dumbledore's voice, louder this time, obviously directed at her.
"That's alright, Minerva," he said. "You can let them in. What we will discuss is important for them to hear."
"Very well, then. You may come in." She opened the doors for them, as he and Ron walked in, and she closed the door promptly and quietly behind them.
Harry took note of the looks on Dumbledore's and Madam Pomfrey's faces, and was eager to hear to what they had to tell them. Dumbledore's sapphire eyes were dancing, his aged face supporting a smile. Harry took a deep breath, as he sat down by Hermione's side, where he had been before. Ron took a seat beside him, his eyes flickering between the teachers.
"First, Mr. Potter, before we can tell you about Ms. Granger's condition, we need you to tell us what happened, so we can be sure and clarify any mistakes or miscalculations." Harry nodded, prompting Dumbledore to go on.
"Very well, then," he continued. "Mr. Potter, we need you to tell us exactly what happened, from the moment you awoke to the moment you called for help and assistance." Harry took a deep breath, as he looked at Hermione. She was still on the bed, though her eyes were closed and she was still and motionless.
"I woke up, and it was still dark. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I got up and walked over to Hermione's side, and sat down where I am now." Dumbledore nodded. "And... I just sat here." Harry wasn't sure if he was to tell exactly what he had been doing, meaning his tears, but the look in his Headmaster's eyes assured him that he needn't need to, and that he already understood. Harry went on. "I bowed my head, and closed my eyes... and there was a voice. Her voice. But I didn't look up, because I thought that it was just my imagination or mind, playing some sort of trick on me. But I heard it again, and she was saying my name. And I looked up. And that's when... that's when I saw her." A faint smile played on Harry's lips, as he revisited the memory. It had felt so good to see her again, smiling down on him.
"She was sitting up, and I couldn't believe it. We talked for a short time, but I noticed that there was... something, something different about her." The smile faded, as his gaze darkened. "It was in her eyes. I-I just couldn't explain it. But then, I asked her what happened. And that's when it happened. She looked scared, and she... she fell against me. She seemed to be unconscious. And that's when Ron woke and I told him to get Madam Pomfrey."
Harry's eyes were on her face, not daring to look up at the spectators. He had an uneasy feeling inside him, but there was something, a voice, that was telling him everything was going to be just fine. He didn't know whether to believe it. He wanted to. He wanted to believe it with all his heart.
"Well, Mr. Potter," he finally heard Dumbledore say. He could hear a smile in his voice, and that's when Harry raised his gaze, to find a joyful Dumbledore looking down on him. He watched Dumbledore also turn to Ron. "And you too, Mr. Weasley," he chuckled. "I am happy to announce joyful news. Ms. Granger is going to be just fine."
Harry found that he couldn't breathe, and he had to steady and calm himself.
He heard Ron let out a big sigh next to him, and he felt him pat his shoulder, as Harry looked to him and found him smiling at him. Harry finally let out a breath, as he closed his eyes for a moment, relieved.
"Thank you, Headmaster," he said quietly. He heard Dumbledore's chuckle.
"Mr. Potter, Professor McGonagall and I apologize. It seems that the amulet had worked. It was a strange and sudden turn of events and occurrences, really. We were certain that she had passed on. Her pulse and her heartbeat had completely stopped. But, I guess you can say, love can really conquer anything and everything." Harry smiled, as he finally got his body to take a breath.
"However, Mr. Potter," he looked over to a concerned looking Professor. "Though the outlook is clear and calls for relief and celebration, there are is a... setback." Harry's smile vanished.
"What is it?" Harry asked, Ron's hand tightening on his shoulder.
"Well," she hesitated, as she looked over to Madam Pomfrey, who nodded. "You said yourself that there had been a difference, in Ms. Granger. She had not answered right away when you had asked her what had happened, correct?" Harry nodded. "We have discovered that Ms. Granger... well, it is very difficult, Mr. Potter, to be the one to say this to you, but Ms. Granger has no account of what happened from the incident, or much less after that."
Confusion and questions were etched all over Harry's pale face.
"What?" he asked.
"She cannot remember," Dumbledore answered for the Professor, "what happened, Harry. Apparently, the amulet worked, but her memory had been altered and her most vivid and recent memories have been wiped out. She does not remember, or know, what happened the past few days. But, the change is not permanent. Madam Pomfrey has given her a serum that will restore it all back. Though this will take time, we are sure that it will be successful and Ms. Granger will have all of her memories."
Harry sighed in relief, closing his eyes for a second.
"But, how long will it take? Until she's well? Graduation is only a matter of months—"
"Graduation," McGonagall corrected, "is little over a month away." A slight smile began to spread through her features. "Mr. Potter, the serum is quick, and very powerful. It will take less than a week, around two to three days. However, we must ask that you not visit until she is fully recovered," Harry's heart sank at this, "it may slow the process and maybe even alter the purpose and intentions of the serum."
Harry nodded, silent.
"Alright then," he said. "We won't visit. But will you tell us immediately when she is well?" Professor McGonagall nodded.
"Mr. Potter, we won't waste a minute. Madam Pomfrey will do just that." Madam Pomfrey nodded, reassuring him.
"Okay. Thanks," Harry said, weakly. He just realized how tired his body still seemed to be.
"Well, now that has been cleared out of the way," Dumbledore said, cheerfully. "I think you two boys should head on back to your dormitories, and change into fresh clothes. Only very few classes will resume, for we have done the required tests about several months ago. I must warn you to be careful about what you inform your peers; there are many peculiar rumors floating around these halls, and I wouldn't want a media explosion outside of our doors. I have to ask you to tell as little as possible, and confirm even less. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Headmaster," the two boys nodded.
"Well then, you two better get on your way. It is just about an hour before the sun should rise, if I am correct, and you might want to catch up on some sleep. I am sorry these past few days have been very suspenseful and tiring, but one should hope this is the last time these things should happen."
And with that, Harry and Ron stood, shaking their Professor and Headmaster's hands, and made their way out of the Hospital Wing, with a light heart and a sparking eagerness for their oncoming days.