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Chapter 3 - Night of grief- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Two beds were occupied in the Hospital wing late that night - candles surrounding the two unmoving personas. The light cast shadows over their faces, softening them up, giving them a slightly healthier look than the ghostly paleness that surrounded them in broad daylight.
A group of three were standing by the edge of the two beds, speaking in hushed voices, once in a while throwing a worried look at the two.
"Professor Dumbledore, is it too late to save them?" The voice came from nobody else than the Potion's master whom looked not little worried about the situation.
"I do not know about Harry, Severus. Grief can do strange things to people and in his already weakened state..." The Headmaster shook his head sadly and took a step away from there. "We will just have to wait and see if he chooses to come back. He is already standing outside the Halls of Death, still pending on whether he should join his loved ones or come back here.
"You mean that it is up to him whether he comes back or not?" The shock in his voice was obvious for even the most oblivious one and against his will the Headmaster felt how a smile lurked inside of him, even though the seriousness of the situation made him suppress it.
"Yes. And just by doing this my hopes are not high of that he wants to come back. Have you not noticed that ever since Sirius passed away his hopes have been even lower?
At this the younger man shook his head and got into a sort of contemplation, making the third teacher present frown slightly.
"How about Ms. Granger then?" Professor McGonagall asked.
At this the Headmaster smiled bleakly and threw a hopeful look at the young girl in the bed that lay deep in the layers of unconsciousness.
"She'll be fine, shock and the urge to bring the message drove her to this.
Professor McGonagall didn't look that reassured, she turned her gaze away towards the door, outside which she knew Ronald Weasley and several other students were anxiously waiting for explanations.
"Now I suggest that we all rest, taking the students into their houses. Except Mr. Weasley, that is."
Albus Dumbledore knew the boy would refuse to leave his friends'' sides and thus let him in, explaining things - the truth slightly corrected though, then making sure of that nobody else would enter. And when the door closed behind the seniors Albus Dumbledore suddenly knew that if the other two wouldn't make it, neither would Ron.
However, done was done, and there was something inside him that told of that it would be fine after all, for as long as there was hope there was a chance of that things could go good.
"Oh, and Severus," Dumbledore added with a bit of mirth in his eyes. "Will you tell Mr. Malfoy that he is welcome here whenever he feels like it?
The Potion's professor seemed utterly confused, he couldn't understand why in Merlins beard would a Slytherin want to meet with that boy? Though he finally nodded 'yes'; thinking that the Headmaster probably had his reasons. Though as it turned out, Draco would never get the message. Not until the damage was already done.
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Ronald Weasley sat between the beds of his two best friends, completely devastated. Even though Dumbledore had said that Hermione was going to be just fine and Harry would probably wake up in about a week, he was not so sure. Even he had seen Harrys appearance since he came to the Burrow after his birthday.
It had looked as if he hadn't been eating for weeks and what had been a positive appearance at the end of school had turned to a pale and unhealthy look, as if he didnt care if the world crashed down during the next day. Not even Quidditch seemed to cheer him up, which Ron took as a very serious sign.
'Its all Malfoys fault', he thought to himself, clenching his fists in conserved fury.
He had figured out what had been wrong with his friend since the first day in school as Harrys gaze had been locked on the Slytherin's for nearly five minutes, those green eyes of his filled with uttermost sadness.
Ever since that day he had been itching to give the ferret a proper beat-up for doing this to Harry, at all for even touching him. He was a freaking Malfoy for Merlins sake! He was the bad guy, the one who ate first-years for breakfast.
Ron shook his head several times, trying to get out the vision of the ferret eating innocent Hufflepuffs. He then caught sight of the thick, but simple and plain silver ring on Harrys right ring finger, something he had only seen the boy wear a few times earlier this summer, and he found himself frowning. He knew Harry had kept it in a long golden chain during the latter part of their sixth year, and Ron had never questioned that, thinking it had something to do with Cho. But now of all times, when Harry's relationship with the ferret was over, why would he wear the ring on his finger?
This bothered Ron quite a bit, and he found himself staring at his friend's ring-clad hand, puzzled over the whole thing.
He then found himself wondering over why this all happened. Sure he had heard the expression dying out of a broken heart, even many times, but he had honestly thought that it was just a saying, not the truth. Then again, as he had seen how Harry had been tormented from within, he realized that he had just been waiting for this to happen. Perhaps that was why his inner had felt so cold when they had found Harry.
Ron quickly turned his eyes to Hermione, taking hold of one of her cool hands. Her hair was spread out over the pillow like a fan, soft curls of brown, and he found himself removing an errand lock of hair from her face, then to smile weakly.
'She's so beautiful when she's sleeping,' he found himself thinking, suddenly feeling very much at peace.
At least she was going to be okay. Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead he then patted her hand, holding it as he watched over the two, not falling asleep until early in the morning, the events of the night finally taking out their rights.