Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, characters, universe, etc. I'm not making any money from this.

Author's Note: Sorry, this one's a tad bit angsty.

HIM, Him

"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, Hermione," she told herself sternly as she mentally prepared to enter the small room off the infirmary where Harry had been moved a few days ago. Apparently, he'd started screaming about all the dragons, so they'd moved him to a smaller room and promised him that the dragons were too big to get inside. The problem hadn't come back since, according to Madam Pomfrey.

"Stop stalling, Granger, he's your best friend. He needs you now. Just… Just go in there. And don't cry," Hermione whispered to herself, struggling to work up the courage to face him. Ever since the headmaster had owled her about Harry's… condition, she'd been beating herself up for not anticipating something like this. For not preventing it. She couldn't help but think that she'd failed him. And he'd done so much for her…

She shook herself briskly. It wouldn't do to start crying before she even went inside. Harry was only allowed one visitor at a time right now. Apparently, he didn't react well when he felt crowded.

"…probably all those damn nargles fault," Harry was saying as she entered.

She started, having thought he was alone. When she looked around though, she realized that… he was.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Harry went on, sounding fairly sane. Except that he was having a conversation with someone who didn't seem to be there.

"Harry?" she said softly.

He looked at her and blinked. "It's okay," he said quite sincerely, bright green eyes clear and solemn. "It's not dead. Just knocked out."

Hermione's stomach turned as she realized what he was talking about. The troll, first year. He'd said the same thing. "Harry, how are you feeling?" she asked gently, moving slowly into the room to sit down in the single chair by his bed.

"Great!" he grinned. "We were just talking about Voldemort."

Hermione swallowed and tried to keep her face calm. "Who were you talking to?"

"What?" He looked around. "Oh. Him."

"Him, who?" Hermione frowned.

"Him, him," he said as though that made everything clear.

"Okay," she nodded, fairly sure that pushing the issue wouldn't get her anywhere. She'd read a few books on psychology after hearing what had happened to Harry. From what she understood, he might react very badly if she tried to force him to understand that a delusion wasn't real. She'd leave that to the mind healers that were going to come as soon as Professor Dumbledore was satisfied that they could be trusted. "So…" she cast around for something else to say. "I've missed you," she settled on.

"Oh. Well, you should probably work on your aim a bit, then." The very worst part about this, Hermione decided, was that Harry didn't seem to realize that there was anything odd about anything that he said. "Did you get your OWL scores yet?"

"Um. No. Not yet."

"I'm sure you…" he trailed off, then frowned slightly, his eyes focused somewhere around her knee. "Don't you think it would be weird to not have magic?" he murmured pensively. "I mean, if you were a muggle, then you wouldn't have a wand."

Hermione struggled against her growing uneasiness. Merlin, she wished that there was something she could do to help him.

"Hey!" he said suddenly, jumping out of bed. "I'm bored! Tell Ron that I'll be on the pitch. I'm just going to do a few laps!"

"Ah," she gulped, quickly standing. "Harry, I think you're supposed to stay here," she said uneasily, wondering what she was supposed to do now.

"Don't worry, I'll be back before anyone can miss me," he promised mischievously, bounding around her toward the door.

"Harry, I-" That was as far as she got before Harry threw open the door only to be met with a flash of red light. He collapsed under the stunner, landing softly on the cushioning charm that had immediately followed. Hermione gulped uneasily as she looked up at Professor Snape, who was standing in the corridor with his wand out, frowning at her unconscious friend.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said quickly. "I don't know what happened! He suddenly just said that he was going to the Quidditch pitch, and I…"

"Calm down, Miss Granger," Professor Snape interrupted with a small sneer. "He does this at least three times a day."

"Oh," she paled, her eyes falling to the crumpled form of her first and best friend. "Um. Why don't you… restrain him in his bed?" she asked cautiously.

He lifted an eyebrow in that way he had that always made her feel like a silly, idiotic little girl. "We did, Miss Granger. Unfortunately, being restrained seems to panic him. He nearly took down the hospital wing with accidental magic the first time he found himself strapped to his bed. He may be utterly insane, but he is no less magically powerful."

"Oh," was all that she managed to reply, her voice very small. She'd studied muggle psychology, but she hadn't even considered how that would affect someone's control of their magic. Harry could hurt himself or someone else so easily. It made her very afraid for what they might do to him if he didn't get better soon.

"You should leave now, Miss Granger," Professor Snape interrupted her thoughts. "Mr. Potter needs to take his potion and get some rest now."

"Okay," she whispered as she stepped around Harry to leave the room. She watched Professor Snape levitate Harry back to his bed and realized that the man didn't seem nearly as mean as usual. She supposed that even he couldn't manage to hate Harry in his present condition.