Title: Somebody Out There (6/15)
Author: silverphoenix
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: In the middle of a war, there are going to be casualties. This is inevitable. When two people lose their friends, they come to realise that death is not the end of happiness.


SOMEBODY OUT THERE
Part Six: Dreaming in Red

Watching her lying there, tossing fitfully, a sheen of sweat covering her, Blaise wished there was more that he could do. Hermione was one of the best Aurors that he knew; technically, they were not fully qualified yet, but she was still damn good. Being a good witch was not everything, though, and Hermione had been brought down by a fever.

St. Mungo's had classed her as 'non-critical' and instructed Blaise to take her home. They had far more important things to deal with at the hospital, and Blaise could see why they had refused to admit her. Blaise was scared. He had already faced down half a dozen Death Eaters with his flatmate and their fellow trainees, but seeing Hermione like this scared him more than anything else did.

He was helpless; he had been told that the fever needed to burn itself out. She was helpless; the fever had rendered her into a state of delirium and, as far as Blaise could tell, she had no knowledge of his presence at all. If she knew he was there, she did not acknowledge it.

Hermione moaned, turning, the thin cotton sheet that covered her, getting tangled up with her legs. Blaise moved carefully, trying not to touch her and pulling it off her. He bit his lip as he folded it, draping the sheet of the back of his chair. It was clammy, and he wondered if there was a cooling charm that would be safe to use on her. He did not like to use spells on her without her permission even when she was healthy and, now that she was ill, her emotions seemed to have kicked her wandless abilities into overdrive. Lights would keep flashing, objects would float metres in the air and then come crashing down to the ground.

"Blaise!" she exclaimed sitting bolt upright.

"Hermione," he breathed, but she did not seem to notice him as she slid back down to a lying position.

"Red," she mumbled, a shiver crossing over her. "Why is everything red?" Then she let out a forlorn, "Blood."

Blaise ran a hand through his hair. She was dreaming in red. He, too, had dreams that were tainted by that colour. Blood, curses, screams. Hermione's breathing was heavy and laboured, and Blaise reached for a cold, damp flannel. Gently, he patted her forehead with it and she sighed deeply, trying to move closer to the coolness.

"Come and take me away!" she screamed, arching off her bed, muscles tense. Blaise's breath caught in his chest, truly frightened, both for himself and for Hermione and what she was seeing.

Her eyes opened, and she stared fixedly at him, eyelids heavy and pupils unfocused. "The world is falling down," she whispered, as though sharing a great secret with Blaise. Carefully laying the cold flannel on her forehead, Blaise pushed her hair from her face; it was damp with her sweat.

"I'll pick it back up for you," he assured her. She nodded.