Midnight.

Hermione, Dumbledore, and McGonagall stood around Harry's bed, Hermione by Harry's chest, and the professors on the other side, one each near Harry's head and feet. The only light came from two spelled candles that McGonagall had carefully lit and placed on the table next to Harry's head.

"For a little extra luck and power," she whispered to Hermione, and winked.

Hermione tried to smile bravely back, but she managed only a grimace. She shivered in the cold room. Her insides felt frozen and dead, and her wand was shaking in her hand. Harry's wand seemed to burn her from the pocket where she'd tucked it.

She looked down at Harry. They had pulled the covers off of his chest and opened his shirt. He looked cold and vulnerable in the candlelight. His skin was white as frosted window glass, and he seemed almost as transparent. His head was turned to the side on his pillow, the flesh sunken against his cheekbone. As he had for almost a month now, he lay totally still. She had never seen him move in all that time.

The bandages were gone; instead, Hermione saw for the first time a new, small scar on his chest. It was shaped like a lightning bolt. The sight of it made Hermione feel sick.

She reached down to touch his hand, as she had done so many times. It felt simply dead. Her heart ached at this, and then, with an effort, she pushed her worries as far down inside herself as she could…

She squeezed his hand briefly in her own, leaned down and whispered to him, "Don't you worry, Mister Big Shot Harry Potter. We're going to get this thing out of you, do you hear me?"

……

They started by pointing all three wands together over the middle of Harry's bed, and then lowering them down, until the tips just barely touched over that scar. They held the wands there, hovering, for a moment, while Dumbledore murmured something long and intricate under his breath. Hermione felt a rush of excitement as the tips of the wands began to glow, giving off a gentle pink light. The three of them would have more power together than any of them alone. They could do this!

After a few moments, they all began to chant together the spell that would draw the curse out. "Avada Leviosa," Hermione intoned carefully. "Avada Leviosa… Avada Leviosa…."

The pink light immediately dimmed and buzzed, almost seeming to flicker out – then it relit itself, and glowed steadily. They continued to chant the spell, while Hermione watched anxiously for any sign of change in Harry. He lay unmoving, the pink light warming the blue, dead tones in his skin.

"Avada Leviosa…" Hermione could feel the power building up in their wands, like an electric charge that had no place to go. And still they chanted. Hermione's arm began to wobble with the strain…her wand felt like a living thing, pulling and tugging at her. She sent a worried glance in Dumbledore's direction as she struggled to control it, but his eyes were closed as he continued to chant.

She dragged her eyes back to Harry, willing something to happen. Avada Leviosa…Avada Leviosa…Come on, come on, she thought, get OUT of there –

The buzzing sound coming from the center of their spell was louder now. Over the noise she heard Dumbledore call to her, "Now, Miss Granger. Use Harry's wand."

Hermione felt her chest clench inside of her, and her vision wobbled. But she steeled herself, and with her right hand still struggling to hold tight, she pried her left hand off of her own wand, and snuck it down to her pocket. When her fingers closed on Harry's wand she felt a sting, like an electric shock, but she made herself grab it anyway. Slowly she raised it and began moving it towards the pink glow at the center of Harry's body.

Her hand shaking, feeling nauseous, she pushed forward until the tip of Harry's wand met the tips of the three wands already there –

She heard Professor McGonagall call out, "Anima Transverseum" -

BOOM went a small shock through the room. The light of the spell they were weaving flashed blue, then settled down, more orange than before – and Harry's body twitched with the shock, and Hermione nearly yelled with joy as -- his eyes opened -- !

She almost dropped her wands. Harry! Come back to us, Harry!

The buzzing was all around her, it was in her head, it seemed to be shaking the room. Forcing herself to turn her head, she looked at McGonagall – was it time? The professor nodded, her face looking tense and drawn in the candlelight.

Hermione took a deep breath and then, as she had been instructed, she began to move her own wand away from the spell. It was still bucking and pulling at her, throwing her off balance, and she had to move so slowly...It was a relief to drop the wand on the floor and concentrate on pouring all of her power through Harry's wand, which felt much calmer.

I am Harry, she thought, I am Harry, now get the fuck out of there, you fucking curse –

She didn't feel like anybody but herself, but that didn't matter, right? Something seemed to be working –

"Anima Transverseum…" spoke McGonagall a second time, louder…Hermione knew it needed to be said three times, and idly wondered how long it would be before the spell was complete…but she couldn't think about that for long as together, just as she had read, the three of them very, very slowly began to drop the points of their three wands. Slowly…slowly…until they just touched the scar on Harry's chest –

Hermione instantly felt another shock and Harry's body twitched, and then twitched again –

the chanting was louder now -

the wands hummed of their own accord –

Harry's eyes were wide open, his body suddenly tensed. He began to tremble and shake –

And then something else began to happen...A tiny thread of sickly yellow-green fog began to ooze out of the wound at the tips of the wands. It made Hermione feel ill to look at it, to see it leaching out of Harry's chest...

And then, "Anima Transverseum!" cried McGongall for the third time, her voice ringing through the room. And then together she and Dumbledore chanted again, "Avada Leviosa! Anima Transverseum! Avada Lev-"

But Hermione couldn't hear them anymore - She felt a wave of power and dizziness wash over her and then suddenly –

she was seeing through someone else's eyes –

She saw a woman, a room, it was all blurry –

another man –

She felt fear, heard screams –

and suddenly felt a blinding pain in her forehead –

She screamed in pain! Bent over, tried not to pass out –

vaguely she heard McGonagall yelling out for her not to drop the wand, felt hands on her upper arms holding her up –

then as abruptly as it had arrived, the pain passed, faded, leaving just a dull ache in her head.

She opened her eyes to see Harry, still lying in the bed, his body trembling, his head flung back –

Then without warning another vision – she saw a fat man and a thin woman and felt illness and fear –

then more images forced themselves upon her, faster and faster – a school, a snake, a tiny room, children -

Dimly she felt herself still holding the wand, gripping it with all her might. But the images kept coming, crowding her head, making her dizzy – a boat, and then someone she recognized – Hagrid! She was seeing Hagrid –

And it was then that she knew that these were Harry's memories.

Harry –

She saw herself! young and heartless and so long ago, and almost laughed – Ron, Draco, Dumbledore, Snape, others flew by her as if on a movie screen –

She felt herself gasping for breath, trying to straddle two worlds, casting a spell in one, riding a roller coaster of images in the other… -

She saw Professor Quirrel, whom she had almost forgotten after so long – she felt a rush of fear and power and the pain just above her eyes throbbed, then dimmed…the memories went dark, and then brightened again…

She heard as Dumbledore and Mcgonagall continued to chant…"Anima tranverseum…Avada leviosa…Avada leviosa…Avada leviosa!"

Hermione saw Ginny Weasley, and herself – and the basilisk! She felt Harry's fear and his anger as he fought, felt pain in her arm and in her head…then she felt the terrible weakness and emptiness and knew before she even saw one that she, Harry/Hermione, was remembering the dementors…she saw Lupin, and then Sirius…the dark mark in the sky…Cedric…Cho…and then as the pain in her head grew ever stronger, her vision blurry with pain and fatigue, she vaguely saw - no, felt –

Voldemort. It was he, it was Voldemort, he was there – in her head –

Hermione knew it was only a memory, and yet she felt fear and panic filling her, blocking out everything else…she felt a terrible wrench and disorientation -- the planet was spinning in the wrong direction -- felt herself losing herself -

She could still hear Dumbledore and McGonagall, chanting away from somewhere far outside herself…she felt her grip weaken on the wand. She was so tired, so tired…the hands were still on her arms, sending her strength, keeping her on her feet…

"Avada Leviosa…Avada Leviosa…"

She opened her eyes and gasped. Harry's shaking body was arched, his chest raised, his head flung nearly upside down. His eyes were still open. The curse, that sickly greenish awful ooze, was flowing out of him from everywhere! -- the wound in his chest, his eyes, his ears, nose and mouth… The fog was congealing, if that was the word, at the end of her wand tip...they were doing it! It was leaving Harry, they were fooling it into leaving Harry, he was going to be OK…

Her head was still swirling with images…she could no longer keep them straight…she kept her eyes open with great effort. Dumbledore, still chanting, was watching her carefully. The curse was still hanging at the end of her wand. Why hadn't it dispersed? Wasn't it suppose to disperse, once they drew it out of Harry?

And then, slowly, Hermione began to realize that something was wrong.

The curse wasn't dispersing. It wasn't weakening! It was thickening, oozing and curling around the tip of the wand like a snake, growing darker and more menacing. Hermione stared in growing fear as she begged Dumbledore in her head, do something, do something…

and then the worlds inside and outside of her head seemed to merge –

She watched, unable to move, as the curse gathered itself and shot up the wand, to her hand, and then into her chest.

It was Malfoy's dagger piercing her in two. Hermione felt herself scream as the curse seemed to swallow up her insides – she dropped the wand, she couldn't think, she couldn't breathe –

She barely felt Dumbledore and McGonagall moving next to her – she sagged in their grip – her eyes rolled back in her head, her body felt like it was turning inside out –

She was Harry dying, fighting in the mud –

She was Hermione, dying in the infirmary –

From a long, long way away, she heard McGonagall whisper in her ear, "hold on, Hermione!" and then she heard Dumbledore's voice as she had never heard it before. Deep and sonorous, it seemed to echo inside of her bones as he intoned, just once:

"Arresto Avada!"

And just like that, the curse was gone.

The pain left her like water draining from a basin, swirling through her and out. She felt like it left nothing behind but the barest shell of her own body. She couldn't manage even to stand back on her feet; instead she collapsed further against the wall, and then into somebody's arms.

She saw one more vision – Harry stood in front of her. He was pulling away from her – looking at her -- they were separating – Harry/Hermione became two people, and both were exhausted –

She managed to open her eyes for just a moment. The last thing she saw was the real Harry, lying in the infirmary bed. His body had relaxed, and he was taking a breath…

She remembered nothing more.

……

Harry felt warm… protected. Somebody was there with him, holding him, keeping him safe. It felt like…was it…

"…Hermione…?"

he tried to ask….

But something…he… was rusty and stiff with disuse and weak, and no sound came out. All he heard was a sort of a faint hiss…was that him?

Where was he?

……

He tried to think, feeling as though a dream was dissipating from around him. His head felt filled with water, or mud…the world spun around him and changed…

Slowly he became aware of his body. The warmth faded and in its place he felt very, very cold…

he was…

he was…

in a bed?

He was alone…

Hermione had been there with him, hadn't she?

……

He thought about opening his eyes, but nothing happened. He tried again and then suddenly his eyes were open – and the brightness of the room made him immediately shut them. He felt a choking sensation as his body tried to cough. It seemed to take an immense effort. He felt as if he hadn't taken a breath in a lifetime. His lungs were filled with gravel. Everything hurt.

From a distance, he heard sounds outside of himself. Chairs being pushed back. Somebody gasped. He heard footsteps running over from behind his head.

"Is he awake?"

"Harry?"

Somebody came next to him. A warm hand landed on his arm. And then Ron's voice came out of nowhere: "Harry! Harry, are you in there?"

Harry felt a surge of happiness. He tried to turn his head towards Ron's voice but nothing happened.

He seemed to be too weak to move?

He blinked his eyes open a second time, trying to get used to the light in the room.

He wanted to figure out where he was, but everything was a blur…He was looking up at a ceiling.

Then a wild mane of red hair came into his vision, followed by Ginny's beaming, blurred face. Harry thought he'd never seen anyone so beautiful in all his life.

"You're awake! Harry, how wonderful! Oh, I'm so glad to see you!"

Harry wanted to answer her. He tried to speak…all that came out was a sort of croak, and then he coughed again. It hurt, but he didn't care. He blinked, and tried again to move his head to see Ron. This time it did move, just a little, and there was Ron, looking happier than Harry had ever seen him.

"Harry!" breathed Ron, grinning so widely his lips seemed almost to touch his ears. "Harry! Bloody hell! Harry!"

Harry felt his lips move stiffly and creakily, and realized he must be smiling back. "Ron…" he managed to whisper.

He felt their hands envelop his with warmth and love. He thought he'd never felt so happy.

"Ron…" he whispered again. It was easier this time. "Gin…ny…" He felt warmer, felt so loved…he was drifting back to sleep...

"Herm…" he started again, but was asleep before he finished.

He didn't see their faces fall.

……

When Harry awoke again, it was night. He blinked, wondering when he was, where he was.. when he would find out… He felt stupidly happy just to be able to think, and grinned, feeling his stiff cheeks learning how to move again.

He sighed and slowly, slowly turned his head -- and there was Ginny, sleeping in a chair next to him. A low lamp was lit by her side. She was close enough that even without his glasses he could tell who she was, her uncombed hair hanging over half of her face. She was snoring lightly.

Harry couldn't help it – he cracked up. He managed to get out one real laugh before his rusty self began to cough instead.

Ginny started at the noise and slowly blinked her eyes open. She smiled when she saw him awake, and then moved in her chair to sit up.

"Harry," she murmured sleepily, sounding deeply content. "Welcome back." She gave a long, languorous yawn and then stretched deeply. "Aaaah – I've been sleeping in too many chairs lately!"

She leaned forward, and looked down at him. "So, how are you feeling, champ?"

Harry thought for a moment, and then croaked, "…think I'm OK…howr…you?"

Ginny beamed and squeezed his arm. "I'm just so glad to hear your voice! I'm good, we're good, Harry. Everyone's fine. We're just so amazed to have you back."

Back…Harry thought about that. Back from where? It occurred to him that he wasn't sure why he was in bed…

He pushed his mouth to make more words. "How…long…?" was all he could get out. He guessed he must have been in bed at least a week… He'd never felt so weak and sick in his life.

"Um," said Ginny, looking guarded. She looked around her as if wanting someone else to answer this particular question, but no one materialized from the floor to rescue her. "Um," she said again, and then, "well…about three weeks, Harry. Or…almost four, actually. It's January."

Harry felt stunned. Nearly a month? What could have happened to lay him out for a month? He dug in his fragmented head for any memory…and came up with nothing...

He looked up at Ginny, a puzzled and distressed expression on his face, and croaked "What…happened…?"

Ginny looked uncomfortable. "You don't remember?" she asked, her voice reducing to a squeak.

Harry shook his head the small amount he was able.

Ginny picked up Harry's limp hand and began to play with his fingers, not looking at him. Harry tried to wiggle his fingers in response but they barely moved. He felt a small stab of fear in his gut. Why was he so weak?

Finally Ginny, always the brave one in the end, seemed to decide it was time.

"Harry, you – well—we think you tried to take on V…V…Voldemort. We…we found you on the west road. In the middle of the night."

Harry saw her eyes abruptly shining. "You were in terrible shape, Harry. He nearly killed you."

Little alarm bells were ringing in Harry's ears—

he began to feel dizzy–

He remembered!—

the west road –

the rain –

the fight –

the despair –

the knife –

dying.

His heart was racing and his vision seemed to cloud over. He took a deep, wobbly breath and tried to stop the panicky, drowning feeling that was rising in his chest—

Voldemort had left him to die—

What an idiot he'd been!—

From within his panic, he began to be aware that Ginny had placed her hands on his arms, and was whispering to him. "Shhh…it's OK…you're OK now, Harry…shhhh…it's over, we got you back. It's OK…"

Trembling, he wrenched himself back to listen to her, trying to slow his breathing, returning to the present. He'd broken into a sweat.

Slowly, he brought his eyes to focus on Ginny, who was looking unhappily at him. She was still holding his arms with her wonderfully warm hands. "Listen to me, Harry," she said quietly, "it's OK now. We brought you back. You're OK.

"You were a lunatic to go out like that by yourself," she added, rolling her eyes at him, trying to smile, "but we brought you back."

Harry's heart was still pounding in his chest. And something didn't seem right…He felt there was something he was missing…"brought…me…back?" he asked.

Ginny smiled for real, then, looking a little shy... "Yeah," she said, "you will not believe this, Harry… but we, well…we all dreamed about you, Harry. We—um—" she paused, seeming to realize how odd this was going to sound – "we saw you…dying. We knew where you were. Each of us…so we—well—we came to get you. Ron, Hermione, and me. And we found you, and we brought you back.

"Carried you."

Carried me?

Ginny paused, her eyes focusing somewhere else. Harry wondered what she was remembering.

In a moment, she returned to herself and continued…"But, um…well…you were …"­­--she seemed to choke a little on the words – "…cursed. And it took Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall and Hermione almost three weeks to find out how to lift the curse, but they did it! They did it, Harry. Hermione did it, really…." Ginny's face suddenly saddened, and she looked away from Harry again, at something he couldn't see past him in the infirmary. Harry followed her with his eyes but couldn't see where she was looking.

"Harry," Ginny turned back to him, "are you really here? Are you really awake?"

What did she mean? Harry nodded, confused.

"I mean, are you ready? I don't…I don't know if I should tell you yet…"

Harry grimaced in frustration, and would have groaned if he could. "Tell me…" he croaked. "Hermione?"

She's dead, he thought suddenly, and all of the light went out of his world.

With sudden strength he moved his hand to Ginny's and closed his fingers around her hand. "Hermione…" he gasped…"Is she…"

Ginny sighed and gripped his fingers back tightly. "Shh," she said, hearing what he couldn't ask. "It's OK. Hermione is OK. She's not dead, OK? She's OK. She's just…recuperating."

Harry tried to absorb that, and felt his heart pounding again in his chest. Helpless, he kept staring at Ginny, praying that she would continue. He had to know what had happened…

Ginny looked at him suspiciously, and then shrugged. "To hell with it, I've already started. Harry, you need to understand…you were cursed. With the killing curse, you understand? The real thing. I don't know how you held on for weeks and weeks and didn't just die," her eyes were wet again, "but you didn't, and Dumbledore and McGonagall found a way to lift the curse. But they needed Hermione to lift the spell, you know what a brilliant witch she is, so she helped them, and it worked, so you're OK, but Hermione…well, Dumbledore is sure that she will be OK, too, but she got attacked or something by the curse – no one will really explain it to me. But she's been in bed ever since. But she doesn't look like you did. You looked dead. For three weeks. Hermione just looks…worn out."

Ginny stopped abruptly, as if realizing how much she'd been rambling. She had an odd, drained look on her face, and leaned her head against Harry's hand, just as Hermione had. She continued to babble almost as if she were speaking to herself, as if Harry weren't in the room...

"It's just been so frightening, Harry. I'm just so glad you're OK. And I have to believe Dumbledore that Hermione will be fine, too. I'm just so tired of worrying. And sleeping in the infirmary." She closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm so glad you're OK," she repeated. "You both have given me the worst fright of my life."

And she moved her face down to Harry's, and kissed him on the forehead.

Harry felt more exhausted than he'd ever felt in his life. His world was tilting on its axis. He longed to just close his eyes and drift back to sleep, to go back to the simple feeling he'd had just minutes ago, just being grateful to be alive…

…before he'd known what they had done for him, what Hermione had risked for him…

Instead he forced himself to ask. "…Where?"

In response, Ginny gestured in front of her with her head, to the next bed just behind Harry's. "She's right here."

Harry tried to turn himself over, and couldn't, quite; but Ginny, without needing words, gently helped him roll over, until the other half of the room came into view, and he saw her.

Hermione lay in the bed next to him, just feet away. The room was barely lit in the darkness, but he could see her face turned towards him on the pillow. She was breathing, her chest rising and falling, at a rate that seemed to Harry to be terribly slow. She looked pale, and thinner than he remembered, and her eyes were sunken.

He felt a deep, terrible feeling in his gut, a hand that held too tightly and would not let go until it squeezed him dry.

Hermione.

I did this to you.

Hermione!

Tears came to his own eyes and ran across his nose down to the bed. He felt Ginny squeeze his shoulders, but he could not feel any comfort. It was more than he could absorb. He felt his head spin, and despite himself, his eyes closed, and he drifted off to nothingness…

The last image he held in his mind was a memory he could not have: his own limp body being carried home, in the rain, in the arms of his best friends.

……

Three days later, Harry had regained enough strength to sit up, and he couldn't wait any longer.

Hermione had not moved. Ginny's words were true; she did not look as deathly grey as Harry had. But it was taking her an awfully long time to return to the world.

With Ron's help, Harry wrapped himself in a blanket, and swung his legs over the side of his bed. Just that movement sent stars spinning though his vision; but he patiently waited for them to leave him alone, and then with a deep breath he pushed himself to his feet. Leaning heavily on Ron's arm, shaky after a month of coma, he wobbled and almost fell; but he fought to stay standing and then he limped, lurched, the few feet to Hermione's bedside.

He sat in a chair next to her bed, gently took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. Unbidden, murmured words came flowing from his lips…"Hermione, I'm so sorry…you never should have had to do this…it's all my fault…"

Ron tiptoed away and left him there in privacy. Harry sat there a long time, alone with his thoughts and his grief.

When night fell Harry had to return to his own bed, but the next day he was back, and for all of his waking hours he refused to be anywhere else. Ron and Ginny joined him there, all of them keeping vigil.

And each night, Harry dreamed…of his life past, of his childhood, of Sirius…all of his stories, everything that had made him who he was…intense, wild, troubling dreams…

Yet in these dreams, his world was subtly changed. It took Harry a few days to put his finger on it, but then he realized what was different:

Hermione was …there.

Even when he dreamed of Little Whinging, long before they'd ever met, he felt her presence, as if she'd lived it with him…She kept popping up, in a way that he could not understand. Sometimes it was just a sense that she was holding him, keeping him safe, the way he'd felt before he'd woken up.

Somehow, she was there, inside of him.

Harry clearly grew stronger every day, to Ron and Ginny's great and visible relief. Soon he was able to walk on his own, and then he was discharged from the infirmary.

But still he returned there every day, waiting by Hermione's bedside.

And still Hermione lay unmoving, just as he had.

Until one afternoon, almost two full weeks after Harry and Hermione had changed places, he was sitting alone with her when he felt her hand move in his.

"Hermione?" he asked, anxiously…"'Mione, you in there?"

She squeezed her eyes, not opening them, but turned her face towards him, and murmured, "mmmmm…"

He felt his heart leap in joy, felt that awful, guilty hand loosen its grip on his intestines ever so slightly... "Hey," he murmured, "'Mione, come on back. Wake up. We're waiting for you." And in a sudden impulse, he reached out to move her hair out of her face…and for the first time since he'd faced Voldemort, he saw her forehead.

It was marked with a faint new scar.

In the shape of a lightening bolt.

Harry gasped and gagged. He truly thought he was going to vomit. Without consciously thinking he scrambled and scrabbled and pushed himself away from Hermione's side, falling back onto the bed behind him in his panic.

He lay there, half sprawled, chest heaving, staring unbelievingly at Hermione, and the scar he thought he'd never see duplicated. His scar.

She took it on, he thought.

She faced the killing curse for him -- and it marked her forever, just as it had marked him.

So many feelings surged up in Harry that he felt he might fly apart...anger at himself for not being able to protect her, anger at Hermione for risking herself to save him when he didn't want to be saved! -- He had done his best to keep them out of danger, dammit! -- anger at Voldemort for once again grievously wounding someone he loved, and guilt! – a horrible guilt for all of this mess happening. How could he have once again put someone he loved in the line of fire? He'd tried so, so hard to stop the cycle, and he'd only made it worse…there had to be another answer…

He was still there, shaking, on the verge of sobs, unable to move, when Hermione opened her eyes and looked right at him.

She squeezed her eyes to focus, and then she smiled – a slow, wonderful, satisfied smile. "H…Harry…" she croaked, in what was probably a good approximation of how he had sounded, two weeks prior. "Harry!"

Somehow, Harry forced his heart to return to his chest, and his body to move closer to Hermione's bed. Still struggling to keep down his guilt and nausea, he reached out and took Hermione's hand. "Hey, 'Mione," he managed, his own voice shaky and cracking. "Welcome…welcome back!"

He felt a tear hit the back of his hand.

Hermione blinked, slowly, and took a breath. Already she had more color in her cheeks. "H…Harry…you're OK!"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I'm fine," he crooned to her. He suddenly felt relief wash over him that she was waking up, pushing aside some of the guilt, some of the anger… "I'm fine, but…" he paused, then he couldn't help it, "I didn't really want you risking your neck to save me, you idiot!" He meant it, but at the same time he smiled, to tell her he was grateful…

Because he realized that he was.

Hermione blinked again. "It…wasn't…so bad…" she murmured. "It was…very interesting…research. And I've never…been cursed…before. Very…unique…experience..."

She closed her eyes. After a few moments, when she didn't open them again, Harry realized she had fallen asleep.

He kept her hand in his for a long time, watching her.

He felt a touch on his shoulder after awhile; it was Ron and Ginny. They settled down on either side of him without a word. The three of them sat in silence, waiting for Hermione to wake up, and make their foursome whole again.