I have always had problems with this chapter. I've tried to improve the flow and make it more my usual voice, but I'm still not pleased with it.

However I feel as if I either need to post it or make it die a horrible painful death.

So I posted it.

Again more back-story- the action starts in the next chapter.

Enjoy!

I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to him.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked suddenly as Harry sank to the ground.

"Jesus-" Ron swore. He moved quickly to Harry's right and checked his head for any bleeding.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, obviously shaken.

"I'm not sure Hermione, but he took a nasty blow to the head." Ron patted the side of Harry's face to see if he could get any reaction out of him, murmurs of "bloody hell" occasionally coming from his mouth. Hermione was on Harry's left, biting her nails in worry. "Should we...should we do mouth to mouth or something?"

"He fainted and hit his head, Ron, he didn't drown," she said severely, sounding very much like their Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall. Carefully, she pressed two fingers to his neck. "He's still breathing and he has a pulse," they sighed collectively.

A crowd had steadily gathered around the three of them, watching as the drama unfolded. Not all present had witnessed Harry fall, but those who had had started to fill everyone else in on the story. Yet despite the whispered chatter that passed from one passerby to another, nobody offered aid to the three teenagers. Upon hearing the news, it was almost if shock bound them to the spot at which they stood. This was Harry Potter after all, he couldn't feel pain like they could, couldn't die like they did, could he?

Unaware of the crowd, Hermione and Ron continued to stare down at Harry, willing for him to move, moan, twitch, anything except breathe peacefully.

Uneventful second after uneventful second passed them by, swiftly piling up and turning into urgent minutes.

"He's not waking up, Ron," Hermione said shrilly, trying to blink back tears-- hoping that her friend could come up with a solution that her faultless logic and carefully studied spells could not.

"I know, alright? I can see for myself," Ron snapped. Pressure and grief collected at the boundaries of his consciousness. He couldn't stand this, this moment. This couldn't be it; he told himself over and over, this couldn't be it.

Hermione's heart seemed to cave in at the sight of the redheaded Weasley's hopeless face. He looked so tired, old. What had happened to them? They had once been so happy. Looking down at Harry's pale face, she remembered the golden boy that had once existed within those features. Unthinking, she slammed her palm into the ground. The accompanying sting and specks of blood went unacknowledged in her grave and wistful face. With a strange kind of defeat she stroked her fallen comrade's cheek. How had they fallen so far, so fast?

Both so lost in their own misery and premature grief, they almost mistook Harry's eyes fluttering open and closed as a dearly desired figment of their imagination. Almost.

"Harry? Harry! Talk to me, Harry!"

Harry heard the voice as though it traveled through a dream. The world was nothing more than a mass of shapes and variations of color and light. His ears rang and his pulse pounded against his skull, making his already aching head feel as if it were ready to blow. Before long, the incessant ringing was replaced by faint sounds of conversation and Hermione's shrill voice calling his name. He blinked, willing with all his might for the world to steady. He slowly cracked open his eyes to a large amount of bushy brown hair and Hermione's face.

"Harry, Harry please talk to me!" She held his shoulders in a vice grip and shook him.

"Hermione, stop shaking him! No wonder he can't speak, you'll add to his concussion!"

"I'm just trying to see if he's okay!" she shouted back, worried more about Harry's safety than Ron's words. Murmurs of relief were beginning to surface from the crowd.

Ron looked over Hermione's shoulder at Harry's right hand. It had begun to curl into a gentle fist, assuring Ron that he was ok. He let out an inaudible sigh, and then he looked to his right at a witch nearby, holding her shopping bags and looking curiously at Harry. Her eyebrows were joined in the middle, and a mole seemed to attract all of Ron's attention for a moment.

"You" he pointed. "Stop gawking and go to Madam Mioony's and get her to come her quick!" The woman held herself indignantly for a moment, but after reexamining the look on Ron's face, she quickly gave her bags to a man, presumably her husband (he also had a very noticeable mole).

Hermione continued to try and wake Harry from his trance, occasionally tapping him on the forehead with her fingers.

Harry's mouth was exceptionally dry and seemed to crinkle like paper as he swallowed. He began to open and close his mouth hoping that soon he would be able to regain his voice.

Strange strangled sounds came from his throat.

He swallowed again, hoping that this time he would be able to make out some type of word. This time, he was relieved to find that a glass of water was held to his lips. He greedily swallowed, welcoming the coolness of the water moving his parched tongue. In a few gulps, it was gone; Harry took this chance to try his voice again.

"I'm fine," his voice rasped, still weak. He began to sit up, but Hermione put a hand on his chest and slowly set him back down.

"You shouldn't move around too much. You've had a bit of a fall."

"Do you remember anything?" Ron asked, forgetting the crowd.

"Ron don't be stupid he's in no state to answer questions."

"I was jus--"

"Something's happened. He's livid." Hermione and Ron both looked at him, their faces a shade paler than even when he fainted.

Silence enveloped both Ron and Hermione and, unfortunately, the crowd.

Not wanting to go into greater depth with such a large audience, Harry stayed quiet and feigned head pain.

Bursting out of the crowd like a plump, floral cannonball, a woman that looked remarkably like Madam Pomfrey rushed to his side.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. I'm Madam Mionney. Sorry for taking so long, but apparently even gossip has a limited speed."

Wasting no time, she pushed a ratty pink blanket with an unidentifiable black stain over a great portion of it into his hands "It's a Portkey to St. Mungo's," she informed him, the knowledge making him even more reluctant to hold onto the material than the black stain. He didn't like portkeys. She gestured for Hermione and Ron to grab onto it as well. "Are you ready? One, two, three-"

"I don't need..." Harry started, silenced by a sudden jerk behind his belly button.

For the second time that day Harry's world melted into variations of light and color as the portkey took them, hopefully, to the hospital.

Sun streamed in from the large window from the right of the room. She hid under the covers to block the harsh light. A knock came at the door causing a groan to emit from the girl- knocks at her door were usually a bad sign.

Despite her best efforts her heart began to race in nervous anticipation and a knot grew in her stomachs accompanied by butterflies. She physically swatted it away to mentally rid herself of her reaction. Don't be stupid Rave. They can't do anything worse than they already have. Calm yourself for god's sake. Grudgingly she lifted the luxurious quilt from her head and made an effort to ignore her aching muscles as she sat up against her pillows.

"Come in." She said calmly, her voiced edged with ice. She quickly set her expression to that of calm indifference. She had decided long ago that she wouldn't give any of them the satisfaction of seeing her weak. Even when she was on death's door she had kept that almost majestic arrogance about her; as far as she could see, it had kept her alive and unscathed. At least, unscathed in comparison to what she could have been.

Bringing her attention back to the door, she readied herself for her visitor. In walked a boy of about sixteen, his silvery blonde hair falling into his eyes slightly, he quickly pushed it away to reveal mesmerizing grey eyes. Immediately "Rave" let her guard down.

Draco Malfoy looked at her for a second, staring at her as if observing a ghost.

She smiled at him.

"What? You're surprised? You should've realized Draco it takes a lot more than that to get rid of me." Her voice was light and teasing but it sounded more tragic than either of these. In one swift motion he was beside her on the bed. She tried hard not to grimace from the pain the movement of the bed gave her.

"My father told me what happened. You've really done it this time Rave. The whole manor is in chaos, you should have heard Voldemort..."

"I did" He continued to look at her his eyes bright with wonder and disbelief, his voice was distant and unsteady as if he wasn't really concentrating on what he (or she) was saying.

"Oh, right...he hasn't hurt you has he?"

"Well the whole process wasn't exactly a picnic Draco," she snapped at him sarcastically. Then, regretting losing her temper at him, she apologized.

"No, it's my fault. I'm sorry Rav it's just a little hard to process this. I hoped...but I knew it was almost impossible...I expected you to be a shell...dead. And when you weren't that I expected to see him in your eyes, I was ready for that. I was never...I wasn't...I never prepared myself for this. You, here, living, breathing, talking to me..." he trailed off and continued to take in every detail of her face watching her every movement as a Lion might its cub.

Hesitantly he reached out to her, as if to confirm she was really in front of him. He let his finger trail down from her cheek to her chin, down to her neck until it rested upon a silver necklace.

"This is new."

Bitterly Raveyn Wilkes looked down at where his hand rested. The necklace was of the purest wizard silver the chain itself held an eerie incandescence to it. Contrasting to the warm light of the sun it seemed to shine with a cold, and definitively magical, glow. At the end of the chain was a large and exquisitely cut sapphire of the deepest blue. When examined closely, it seemed to be filled with dark swirling depths, resembling a stormy sea, the blue turning almost black.

This was no ordinary sapphire. It tingled to the touch, giving the examiner a hint of what lay in the heart of the gem, inside was a magic as ancient and as powerful as one could possibly imagine. Whether it was good or ill none would be able to decipher but its intensity alone caused any who touched it to immediately become overcome by fear.

Draco quickly retracted his hand and looked up into Raveyn's eyes for explanation.

"It's my collar," she told him bitterly "as long as I wear it he can find me wherever I am and attempt to control me." Her voice was filled with barely restrained anger and indignation. "I guess handcuffs would interfere with his plans".

Shaking her head and taking a few deep breaths she calmed down.

"You can't take it off?" The question was more of a statement than anything else. Raveyn quickly shook her head. Draco nodded.

"Not that I've tried too hard, I've only just been able to sleep...but from the attempts so far it seems that its more than a goddamn clasp holding this damn thing together." Draco sighed loudly and shook his head

"Bastard." He spat vehemently, that was until he realized where he was and who lay merely a few stories below him, then his anger dissolved and was replaced by merely a fervent concern.

"At least it's over now, there's no cloud hanging over us anymore. It's all over and done with and for now I highly doubt Voldey," she waited to see if she would be struck down where she lay for using such a pet name before continuing on. "I doubt he will try anything. The main thing is I can resist. It may not be much but it's enough."

Her hopeful tone caused a cloud to pass over Draco's face. Raveyn may have won this battle but it was no guarantee she would win the war. He had only foreboding for what lay ahead of her, what lay ahead for them. He couldn't let her become complacent. It killed him, but he couldn't allow her to celebrate her survival, not yet at least.

Grave, Draco looked into her eyes again.

"You know this changes nothing." Her expression morphed to match his own; she nodded.

"I know," She thought for a second, she knew it was silly, and that to be so was probably putting her life at risk, but she was still optimistic. Whether it was misguided optimism or not, she couldn't tell. But for the time being, it was enough.

For the time being, she still had her life; for the time being, she was safe; for the time being, she was with Draco. She could not stand to speculate and worry over her future, to reflect on what she had endured just a few days before. The only way to keep her sanity was to live in the moment.

And in that moment she was relatively happy. What would come would come, and she would face it when it did. And you never know, perhaps at Hogwarts things will be easier; I may even learn something. Maybe...