Chapter 54. Learning to Breathe

The next day, Harry and Ron arrived at St Mungo's at nine in the morning, armed with chocolates, books and anything else they could think of to keep themselves occupied for ten hours. They were well aware that Hermione possibly might not be awake for the majority of their visit, hence the books and homework. The chocolates, flowers and a teddy bear were for Hermione.

Harry entered Hermione's private room last, not wanting to see what she looked like. Buffy gasped ahead of him, and Harry closed his eyes briefly, dreading what he would see. He opened them again after a few moments, taking in the panelled wood walls, the sparkly blue-grey floor, the portrait of a very angry looking witch on the wall, and the window open with thin white curtains billowing into the room. It smelt odd, clean and full of scents of mugwort and Ashwinder eggs. Near the back wall were several carts stocked full of potion bottles, in all different colours, some transparent. Harry was shocked by the amount that was there, and released bitterly that Hermione needed all of this.

That was when he turned to the bed, where Ron, Lupin and Buffy were crowded around. It was a large, single bed with pristine white sheets. Hermione lay under the sheets, her face pale and white, her lips blue. Her eyes were sunken, her face thin and her hair spread messily across the white pillows. She looked almost dead. There was a table next to her, and Buffy cautiously placed the flowers on it, moving the potion bottles, glasses of water and an empty box of Chocolate Frogs.

There were two seats either side of the bed, bottom shaped imprints on the green cushions. Ron immediately sat down, taking Hermione's hand and staring at her as is he couldn't believe the horror of it all. Lupin started to arrange the flowers and other presents on the shelf above Hermione's bed, while Buffy walked silently to Harry, taking his hand carefully.

"Are you alright?" She asked quietly, but Ron looked towards them at them. Harry nodded dumbly, and Buffy bit her lip cautiously. "You look as if you're about to faint." She whispered quietly, and Harry stared at her. "You should sit down."

"I'm fine." Harry said, but his hands were shaking and his face was pale.

Buffy nodded, unconvinced, but placed an arm around Harry's waist. It was a comforting gesture but Harry did not have the words to tell Buffy how much it meant to him. He figured Buffy would get it though, and continued to stare at Hermione, her appearance getting worse and worse by the minute.

He could not take his eyes off her, and everything Dumbledore had told him the night before was replaying in his mind again. Dumbledore had said that his power was awakening inside of him, and he was scared of it, how could he not? He had to defeat Voldemort with it, and when he had to do that, it had to be stronger than it was now.

But it was already strong, Harry thought to himself. His power was strong; Harry knew deep down that it was. He had felt something awaken inside of him in that moment he had slammed Draco into the wall, something that had not gone away over the past few days. He did not know if this was normal, or it was because looking and thinking about Hermione brought up all sorts of strange feelings he did not want to think about, but Harry couldn't contain it. He wanted to use it. And more than anything, he wanted to murder Malfoy and Voldemort with it.

It was the effect of Hermione that was putting these murderous thoughts into his head. He had not been obsessed about it before, but he was now, especially now that he had seen the damage Draco Malfoy had done to Hermione. Harry could not stop thinking about it, he wanted to hurt Voldemort and Malfoy, those that had done this to her. He wanted them hurt as much as she was, he wanted them crying out in pain, their faces white with the intensity of it, he wanted-

Harry shook himself mentally, and found that his hand, his hand clutching Buffy's, was clammy and was tightening around Buffy's smaller one. She looked at him, her eyebrows raised, and Harry dropped his hand.

"What's wrong? You were squeezing my hand so hard there I thought it was going to drop off." Buffy whispered her green eyes staring at him intently.

Harry didn't look at her, but at the headboard above Hermione's head. He knew that she knew he was avoiding her gaze, but he didn't care. If he told her what he had just been thinking…

"Oh, hello." A falsely bright voice interrupted his thoughts, and Harry looked to the door. It was Hermione's parents.

He should have realised that Hermione's parents were going to be here, how could they not be? And from the appearance of them, it looked as if they had been here for days. Hermione's mother had short, wiry brown hair, as equally bushy as Hermione's. It was going grey at the roots, and it looked tangled and messy as if it had not been brushed for days. There were bags under her eyes, her nose and cheeks were pink and her eyes were red from crying. Mr Granger was balding slightly, with short brown hair that was more respectable than Mrs. Granger's. He had a thin mouth that was set firmly on his pale face, stern eyes hidden behind owl glasses. They both wore wrinkled clothes that looked as if it hadn't been changed for several days.

"Hello Mrs Granger, Mr Granger." Lupin said quietly, stepping forward and shaking their hands. "I'm one of Hermione's teachers at Hogwarts. No doubt you've heard about Ron, and Harry." Lupin said, pointing to the both of them. "And this is Harry's aunt, Buffy Summers."

Mrs and Mr Granger nodded. Mr Granger's eyes kept on flicking between Harry's face and Hermione limp body on the bed.

"We've heard about you two boys. Hermione talks about you a great deal." Mrs Granger said, her voice throaty and dry.

"We're sorry to intrude." Buffy said quietly. "It's just that the boys wanted to see Hermione."

"Understandably, understandably." Mr Granger said, moving past Lupin to stand next to Hermione's bed, on the opposite side of where Ron sat.

"And will you be staying the entire day?" Mrs Granger asked, looking between Lupin and Buffy.

"Until around seven, when we have to take the boys back." Buffy said, and Mrs Granger nodded.

"But we do not have to stay if you do not want us to." Lupin said kindly, and Mrs Granger smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.

"No, no, I think it'll be good for you four to stay with her. As it happens, I need a quick sleep and shower, so I think we'll head back to the hotel, leaving you four to look after her. Is that alright with you?" Mrs Granger asked, and Buffy nodded.

"It's perfect. We don't want you to worry about her, if anything happens-"

"Which it shouldn't-"Lupin interjected.

"We'll give you a call." Buffy finished, and Mrs Granger sighed with relief.

"Ok, that's perfect. I've wanted to get out of these clothes for days, I feel like a tramp!" She joked, but no one laughed, and it looked as if she was in no mood to laugh either. "Well, we shall see each other later, hopefully. I'm very glad you all came, it's wonderful that Hermione has such great friends supporting her."

Harry felt a pang of guilt, and found that Mr Granger was looking between him and Ron, as if saying what Harry was thinking…if they were such great friends, why did they let this happen?

Mrs Granger kissed Hermione lightly on the forehead and brushed the small tendrils of curls off her forehead. She whispered something to Hermione, not seeming to care that Hermione was asleep, and could not hear her. Mr Granger did the same, although he stayed by her side longer, and had a guilty look on his face; as if that it was his fault that she was lying in hospital, because he hadn't been there to protect her.

"We'll leave you to it." Mrs Granger said, smiling faintly and shutting the door.

Silence enveloped the room yet again, and Lupin looked carefully from Ron to Harry, both faces expressionless.

"Well, I think I'm going to get some coffee." Lupin said.

"Me too." Buffy said, after catching Lupin's eye. "We'll be outside boys, if you want anything."

Harry nodded his thanks, and the pair of them left the room.

Silence descended again in the room, and Harry looked to where Ron was-holding Hermione's hand and staring at her.

Some inexplicable emotion rose inside Harry, causing his vision to cloud over, focusing only on Ron's hand on Hermione's.

"When do you think she'll wake up again?" Ron asked in a strangled voice, drawing Harry out of his daze.

"Dunno." Harry said flatly, the feeling still there in his chest. It was the same one that had taken hold of him whenever he saw Ron with his family, or when Ron had gotten Prefect instead of him, or when Dudley had gotten a TV for his eighth birthday, or when he watched Cho dance with Cedric Diggory at the Yule Ball. It took him a moment to realise that what he was feeling was jealousy, jealousy like he had never felt before, stabbing him in the heart and spilling out, for the world to see, except, no one noticed.

And when he realised what this emotion was, he also realized that he was jealous of Ron, and the position that he was in. The literal position he was in. It confused him, but it also made everything else clearer for him, albeit in a small way.

He sat in the chair opposite Ron, and his best friend looked up. And then Ron swallowed nervously, and sank back in his seat. Harry noticed he had let go of Hermione's hand.

Was it that obvious?, he thought to himself. Was the jealousy so clear on his face that Ron could see it?

"You alright mate?" Ron asked, his voice cutting through his thoughts. Harry's answer was a simple shrug, and Ron sighed. "Giving me the silent treatment again, are you?"

"No." Harry said firmly, and Ron grinned.

"What did Dumbledore talk to you about yesterday?" Ron asked curiously.

"Nothing." Harry replied, and Ron narrowed his eyes.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

There was a silence after that, and Harry could almost see Ron getting angrier and more frustrated.

"I don't like it when you keep secrets from me." Ron said, through clenched teeth.

"I don't like Snape, but I still have Occlumency with him, don't I?" Harry responded coldly, and Ron groaned.

"What is your bloody problem?" He said loudly, his face turning red.

"Nothing's wrong with me, I'd say it was you who had the problem." Harry replied.

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"Well you're the one turning beetroot, not me. I'd say you got some sort of skin condition." Harry said cruelly.

Ron stared at Harry, his face turning even redder, his mouth set in a grim, firm line. "I don't know what your problem is, but I'm sick of it."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

Ron glared at him. "You're so bloody moody-"

"Hormones-"

"You never give me a straight answer-"

"I'm a teenager."

"You're not doing your homework-"

"Sorry, mum."

"And you keep secrets from me!" Ron finished loudly, his face now the colour of a tomato, he was so angry. But it wasn't that that got Harry, it was something else. For the first time, Ron looked spent. He looked fed-up and exhausted. There was something in his eyes that nagged Harry-Ron was tired of fighting, tired of arguing. He was tired of it, and he just wanted to know what was going on.

It was that that melted Harry's resolve, and Harry ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my plate at the moment."

"Well, why don't you tell me, and I can help." Ron said quietly, and Harry glanced at him. "Alright, I'm no Hermione, I won't be able to fix it, but…I just want to know what's going on. I'm sick of being kept in the dark."

Harry smiled apologetically. That was exactly how he felt during the summer of fifth year, when everyone had been spending time at the Order, and Harry did not know anything.

"I'll tell you, but it's not something you can spread around."

"I won't. But how big can it be? I mean, it's not like you've got the fate of the world on your shoulders, have you?" Ron joked, but Harry did not even smile.

"Got it in one."

The grin on Ron's face faded as quickly as it had come. "What…what do you mean?"

Harry sighed, and leant his elbows on his knees. "You know last year, when we saw all those prophecies at the Department of Mysteries, and there was one about me?"

Ron nodded, the colour draining out of his face, as if he knew what was coming. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, the prophecy is about me and Voldemort." Ron winced at that, but Harry kept on going. "Basically, it means that Voldemort chose me to be his equal, all those years ago when he killed my parents. I was marked as his equal, by my scar. And that means that only I have the power to stop Voldemort."

Ron looked as is he had seen a ghost, his mouth was wide open, all colour had drained from his cheeks, and his eyes were widened. Harry could literally see the cogs turning in Ron's head as he made sense of it all. "So, you're the only one that can stop him?" He said, his voice dry and squeaky.

"Yeah. But, the prophecy says that 'neither can live while the other survives'. Which basically means, if I'm dead, Voldemort's won. No one can stop him."

"And if you live, that means You-know-who's dead, for good?" Ron asked, and Harry nodded. "And only you have the power to save him?" Harry nodded is again. "So, what is that power?"

Harry sighed. "You know when we were up in the tower, with Malfoy and Hermione?" Ron nodded, his face darkening. "Remember when I lost my wand, and then Malfoy got pushed backwards by an invisible force into the wall?"

Ron gaped. "That was your power. That is your power!"

Harry shrugged. "That was what the talk yesterday was about. My power. Dumbledore said that my power is love, and I can do anything with it, and so when I saw Hermione…"

"You were filled with love and almost killed Malfoy." Ron finished quietly, his face becoming pale again.

"Yeah." Harry sighed. "It's hard to explain, because I don't fully understand it myself…but that's the gist of it."

Ron still looked as if he had been run over by the Hogwarts Express; his eyes were unfocused on an invisible spot on the bed clothes.

"Ron?" Harry asked quietly. "You alright?"

Ron nodded, swallowing. "So, you love Hermione then?" He said, in a strangled, dry voice.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Yeah, I do." He said firmly, and Ron sighed, looking down at his feet.

And then he realized something.

Flashes of memory came back to him at that moment, Ron's jealousy of Krum at the Yule Ball, Ron's sharp reaction to Hermione saying that Harry was a good kisser, Ron's jealousy over Krum's letters…

Harry inwardly groaned, and glanced at Ron again, telling himself that it wasn't true, but knowing, deep down that it was.

Ron was in love with Hermione.

How had he not noticed it before? The clues were so obvious, staring at him right in the face, jeering and laughing. Every moment was staring at him right in the face, and Harry was wondering how he could have missed it.

But did Hermione love him in return?

It was a simple question, and if Harry had been a proper friend, he would have hoped that Hermione was, so that Ron could be happy. But he was feeling the opposite. He found himself wishing that Hermione was not in love with Ron, and the more he thought about it, the more he persuaded himself that she was not. Ron's love was unrequited, Harry told himself.

And then he looked back at Ron, and upon seeing that forlorn, lost and devastated expression on Ron's face, Harry made up his mind at what he had to do.

"She's one of my best friends. I'm not in love with her, or anything." Harry said loudly, and Ron looked up sharply, a hopeful expression on his face, something that made Harry feel guilty.

"Really?"

"Yeah, honest." Harry said.

"'Cos…I like her like that…you know?" Ron said shyly.

"Yeah, I know. It's cool." Harry said again, his tone empty, his face expressionless.

"You sure? You're not in love with her or anything?" Ron asked, looking like a child that had just been given a hundred lollipops.

"Me? No, I don't love Hermione. You go for it Ron." Harry said, feeling that cold stab of jealousy in his chest again.

Harry didn't love Hermione like Ron did. He was sure of that. Sure, he thought her about her a lot, she helped him through every bad situation he had ever been in, she was incredibly loyal to him and they hardly ever fought and he was grateful for that, and he wasn't quite sure what he would do if she ever left…but he didn't love her. He wasn't in love with her. He wasn't. He wasn't.

Wasn't he?

-

Yeah, I know, I took a very long time to update and I really didn't mean to, but time flies when you have exams. Or rather, it doesn't, but I had exams so I couldn't update.

Well, anyway, thank you for all the reviews and for the people who have been bugging me to update (you know who you are)!

The next chapter should be up soon, because I have it written and realised that this chapter isn't as eventful as I would have liked it to have been. Anyway, please review!